


Through The Looking Glass

by Foreverwholockedme



Series: The Doctor and the Holmes-Watsons [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ACD Canon, Crossover, Eleventh Doctor Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Happy Ending, Johnlock Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2159289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverwholockedme/pseuds/Foreverwholockedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In celebration of their upcoming wedding, Sherlock and John to spend their last few hours before the nuptials with the Doctor, and end up meeting their 1800s counterparts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was staring at the tuxedos that were hanging up in the open wardrobe. He bit his lip and his hands tightened around each other, with a finger resting on a shiny gold engagement ring that John Watson gave to him all those months ago. He was caught by surprise, everybody was. They were at home when he did it. They were in the beginning stages of their shag, they were only half-naked. Sherlock was pressing gentle kisses to John's chest, and then moving over to his shoulder where the scar was. His soft lips kissed the scar, making sure that he got every inch of it before moving anywhere else on his body. John was grazing Sherlock's long graceful neck with light breaths and heavy kisses. John was propped up in the bed, whereas Sherlock was sitting in between his legs, with his arms wrapped around John's own neck. John's hands were grabbing the detective's fine hips, but his hands were going lower, they finally stopped on Sherlock's rather plump behind. John would pull apart from Sherlock's neck and then press his lips against his. 

In between breaths, John would manage, "I love you. Jesus, Sherlock, I really do." 

Sherlock's deep chuckle would resound through his body, giving good vibrations to John. He would break the kiss to reply, but they would still remain so close to each other, nose pressed against nose, feeling the heat from each other's breaths blowing lightly on them. 

"So you keep reminding me." 

He smiled and gave him a short kiss before breaking apart again. 

"No, I mean it, Sherlock.' 

Sherlock's smile grew. John could never get enough of the detective's grins. He rarely did it, but when he did, it was one of the greatest things John has ever seen. Sherlock's curls were tickling John's forehead, but he didn't mind it one bit. John's firm grip of Sherlock's bum tightened, causing Sherlock to move closer to John. 

"I know you do, John." 

Sherlock went to move in for John's lips but John let go of Sherlock's hind quarters and rested them on his arms so he could stop him. Sherlock's smile was gone at the look on John's face. John looked serious, but not upset. 

"Marry me." 

Sherlock's eyes widened and for a moment, John thought he broke him. 

"I...what....?" 

Sherlock's voice came out no louder than a whisper. John's smile was slowly returning to his face. 

"You heard me, I want you to marry me." 

Sherlock's eyebrow rose. He didn't know how to respond, he never expected that John would just come right out and say it like that, what was he supposed to say? He couldn't even form a word. John let go of Sherlock's arms and opened the nightstand drawer that was next to the bed. Out came a long box with the initials, "J.W." carved into it. 

"What do you say, Sherlock?" 

Sherlock's mouth was moving, he knew that much, but no voice, no words, ever left it. He eventually gave up in trying to speak and then simply nodded. John was beaming now. With each nod, Sherlock felt his eyes get watery, sentiment, he thought. He wanted to speak, but now if he did, he knew he would start crying and Sherlock Holmes wasn't going to cry. John already sucked him into feeling for another person, and having them consume your entire life and disobey every cold reasoning of emotion that which you hold dear, and has even gotten him in the sack more than once. He was very happy that John was proposing to him, and he wanted to express it in every way that he can, except for crying. But when John opened the box, it revealed his dog tags from when he was in the army. They were recently polished, but they weren't new, the chips and tiny dents in the medals made that abundantly clear. John took them out of the box and then placed on Sherlock's neck, as if he were a king in a coronation. 

"Just until I can get you an actual ring."

But Sherlock just couldn't stop nodding, and in one big rush, the word "Yes" managed to escape his mouth, as well as the tears of joy that so many other people have talked about having in their lifetime, Mrs. Hudson especially. John's eyes were getting teary as well as he rubbed soft circles on the younger man's bare shoulder. John wasn't one to show emotion, neither was Sherlock, but here they were, almost stark naked in their rooms, quietly celebrating their new-found engagement. John had that familiar aching in his chest, and it's what he got whenever Sherlock wasn't around, but he was here now, and he was so close. John grabbed Sherlock and brought him into a deep and passionate kiss, all of the words they couldn't say pouring into their kiss, and it hurt so good. Sherlock released himself from John's kiss and then slowly sank into John's chest, getting in the scent of his fiancee, feeling every hair on his chest, wanting to be as intimate as possible. John knew what he was doing, and he slowly rocked him back and forth. 

"I know Sherlock, I know." 

It didn't matter that Sherlock was crying now, John wouldn't make fun of him for doing it. What did matter was that moment and all other moments that would come after. They spent the rest of that night making slow, sweet, passionate love, and many other nights after that too. 

"Something on your mind?" 

Sherlock turned to see John standing in the doorway with two cups of tea in his hands. There was a warm smile on his face as he saw John nearing him, the scent of the warm tea wafted in Sherlock's nose. John always could make the best tea. Taking a seat next to his fiancee on the bed, John handed Sherlock his cup and silently started sipping on his own. 

"What's the matter? You have been quiet for hours now." 

Sherlock stared at his reflection in the tea. 

"I'm just thinking, John. You should be used to this by now." 

John swished the warm liquid in his mouth before he swallowed it. He saw Sherlock's eyes lingering over the matching tuxedos that they were going to wear for their wedding tomorrow morning, and then he thought about Sherlock's change in attitude. Ah, he put it together. Sherlock just has a case of pre-wedding nerves, it's understandable. He set the cup down on the nightstand and then shuffled closer to Sherlock, wrapping his arms around the small waist and resting his chin on Sherlock's shoulder. 

"You're nervous about the wedding, tomorrow." 

"Is that a question, or a statement, John? You seem to mistake those two a lot." 

John rolled his eyes. 

"Now I know you are because you're deflecting me with sarcasm. It's the lowest form of wit, Sherlock." 

Sherlock sighed and a hand went to the one on his stomach. 

"To answer your question, yes, I admit I am...nervous." 

There was a slight chuckle in John's voice and his arms squeezed Sherlock gently. 

"You know there's nothing to be nervous about, all our friends are going to be there, I'm going to be there too, Sherlock." 

"I would have thought that you were attending, since it is our wedding." 

"You know what I mean, Sherlock." 

Sherlock smirked. 

"But there is nothing to be concerned about, we're getting married tomorrow, be happy about that." 

"And what gave you the impression that I'm not?" 

John laughed and kissed Sherlock's cheek. 

"Well we have a big day tomorrow, we should probably get some rest. Or if that's not what you had in mind...." 

Sherlock stopped him. 

"As much as I would love to, John, you said it yourself, we have to get some rest. But I'm almost positive that there will be time after our wedding." 

John gave him another kiss. 

"You better believe it." 

John let go of Sherlock and stood up. 

"I'll be back in a moment, got to use the loo." 

"Information I could have went without, John." 

There was no response, and John was already out of the room. Sherlock still had his tea in his hands, he was sure it was cold now, but he would still drink it. He didn't want to waste John's specially made tea. As soon as the liquid was close to entering his mouth, Sherlock heard a faint whirring sound as well as a flashing light. He could have sworn that he heard that noise before, some time as a child he may have heard it. He could vaguely remember and thus could not find the specific memory. He was going to ignore it until he heard a voice.

"Sherlock!" 

The voice screamed on the quiet street. It was almost midnight. Sherlock's brows furrowed at the person calling his name, not only was it late, but it was annoying. But there was that lingering feeling in Sherlock that he knew the stranger shouting his name. He set his tea cup down and then stood up and walked over to the window. Sherlock couldn't believe his eyes. There was a blue police box in the middle of the street, and he was most certain that it was not there just a moment ago. And in front of the police box was a man. His hair was swooped to the side, and he was wearing a jacket, with suspenders, and bowtie... 

Sherlock gasped. That man, he knew him, and he knew that police box too. It wasn't an ordinary box. 

It was the TARDIS. 

And that man was the Doctor. 

John came running into the room with his belt dangling about. 

"Sherlock, did you hear that noise? Who is that outside screaming your name? Do you know him?" 

Sherlock was frozen, his eyes were fixed on the Doctor. What was he doing here? Why did he wait till now to come back? 

"Sherlock?! Sherlock! Answer me! What is going on?!" 

Sherlock's gaping mouth soon curled into a smile and he rushed past John and out into the living room. John followed suit and found his husband-to-be throwing on his coat haphazardly, and carelessly draping his scarf around his throat. He was shimmering in excitement and has yet to tell John anything. 

"It's like I'm talking to a bloody wall! Sherlock, talk to me!" If Sherlock had to bet, John was getting agitated. 

Sliding on his last glove he turned to John with his brightest smile. 

"Get your coat on, John!" 

"Sorry, what?!" 

Sherlock grabbed John's hands and his smile disappeared briefly and was replaced with a softness that John rarely saw in Sherlock. 

"John, I promise everything will be explained if you put your coat on and come with me outside." 

John wanted to get angry at Sherlock, but whenever he made that face, he had to comply. 

"Alright Sherlock, okay, just give me a blasted minute." 

John retrieved his coat and put it on shortly before getting pulled out of the flat and down the stairs into the street. John's hand was eventually released, but he watched as Sherlock's smile returned as he neared the mystery man in front of the blue box. Sherlock walked up to the Doctor and stopped. The Doctor smiled. 

"Hello, Sherlock." 

"What are you doing here, Doctor?" 

The brunette smiled and then looked away for a moment. 

"Well, you know how I am, always popping in at random times!"

Sherlock crossed his arms. 

"Tell me the truth." 

The Doctor sighed. 

"Alright, alright. It's been a slow day, nothing to fight, no Daleks invading London, no timey-wimey stuff to do, no planets that need saving, just me and my TARDIS, doing...stuff." 

"Stuff?" 

"Yes...time-traveling stuff." 

Sherlock smirked and gave a nod. 

"Ah, I see." 

After a moment, the Doctor said, "You don't believe me, do you?" 

"Not for a minute." 

The Doctor laughed. 

"You always were a clever boy, Sherlock." 

Sherlock sniffed. 

"I believe that I am still clever, Doctor. Using the past-tense implies that I was once at an earlier stage in time, but am now not." 

The Doctor was clearly amused. 

"But to answer your question, I was just...checking up on you...I know that it's been a long time since we've last seen each other and trust me when I say that we have a lot of catching up to do, and I figured, why not stop off now? Before the Cybermen rise again or something like that." 

John intervened. 

"Right, Sherlock, whenever you feel like introducing me to your friend here, that would be great." 

Sherlock turned around to see John still standing on the sidewalk. 

"Oh, right, apologies, Doctor, this is my...fiancee...John Watson." 

The Doctor's face lit up. 

"Fiancee, eh?" 

"Like you said, we have a lot of catching up to do." 

The Doctor gave one more smile at Sherlock, before making his way to John, who was, admittedly a bit creeped out. Giving a courteous smile, he held out his hand and waited for John to take it. John's eyes darted to Sherlock, who gave him a curt nod, before accepting the handshake.

"How do you do, John Watson?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Sherlock never told you about me?"

John shook his head, still confused about the whole situation. The Doctor's smile widened.

"I'm the Doctor."  

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Doctor? Doctor who?" 

The Doctor just laughed at John's inquiry and then turned to face Sherlock who seemed to be somewhat amused by his fiancee's puzzlement. He released John's hand and then turned to head towards his TARDIS. With a dramatic spin, he rested a hand on the door of his machine and then faced the couple. 

"So are you ready?" 

John made his way over to Sherlock and took his hand in his own. 

"Ready for what, exactly?" John responded. 

With a smirk, the Doctor looked at the door he was leaning on and then back at them. 

"For an adventure." 

Not really expecting an answer, he fished around in his coat pockets and pulled out his key. He inserted the shiny silver key into the shiny hole that was waiting for the insertion of its companion. With a twist, the TARDIS's door opened and he slipped inside. 

"Come on! Don't be shy!" 

John opened his mouth to protest, but Sherlock let go of his hand and was already walking to go inside of the police box. 

"Sherlock what are you doing? No, no, don't go in there, we don't even know what's in there, Sherlock!"

Sherlock had his hand on the door and was ready to open it, but he stopped when John started talking. He let go and then turned to face John. 

"Of course I know what's in there, John, it's not the first time I've been in here." 

John's jaw was clenched and his stance straightened. He was used to Sherlock not telling him things, but this takes the cake. A weird man with a bowtie and suspenders is standing outside their flat screaming his name, and like the madman that he is, he runs outside grinning like an idiot. And John is just finding out about this man that Sherlock has met before years earlier, and expects him to be okay with that! At the sight of Sherlock's pleading eyes, John's attitude softened and he wanted to be closer to his fiancee to whom he was getting married to tomorrow. 

"John, trust me when I tell you that the Doctor is a good man, he won't let any harm come to us. Why don't you believe me?" 

John's hand landed on Sherlock's soft, porcelain cheek and began rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. He let out a sigh of exasperation.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Sherlock, it's just the fact that...you know, maybe I'm not as willing to be trapped in a box with a man who looks like he's had some trips to the loony bin, is all." 

The Doctor poked his head out at John's remark. 

"Oi! I have never been to the loony bin in my life! Well, if you don't count that one time where I had to do that thing that I can't tell you about because all of time and space relies on it, but other than that, I have never been there, now are you coming or not?!" 

Sherlock looked back at John. 

"Please, John. You know I'd be lost without my blogger, or is that husband now?" 

John gave a small smile. 

"Alright, what the hell. But if something happens to us, I'm going to blame you." 

Sherlock smirked. 

"I wouldn't imagine that you won't." 

They were staring at each other for a long while before the Doctor gave a loud cough, causing both of them to jump and snap their heads in his direction. 

"I'm still here you know! Now let's go, there are alternate dimensions to be discovered, ancient cities need to be revisited, history needs to be witnessed!" 

Sherlock bent down a bit to reach John's ear. 

"The Doctor's a bit eccentric, you don't mind, do you?" 

John scoffed. 

"Do I mind? Look who I'm getting married to." 

Sherlock laughed. He walked back over to the TARDIS and then opened the door. John couldn't believe his eyes. It was so...big, it most certainly wasn't like a normal box. John had to step out again and then reenter because he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Sherlock and the Doctor were having their share of giggles. 

"Hang on." 

He stepped out. 

"No, no, this isn't right." 

He was talking to himself more than he was talking to the other two men standing there. He stepped back inside and then got a good look at his surroundings, his eyes moving from the control panel to the various other openings that led to different rooms, how many, John didn't know, and he still couldn't believe that he was standing inside the tiny blue police box that was resting on their street at the moment. He looked over at Sherlock who was giggling like a school girl at his confused fiancee. John was finally torn between stepping out of the TARDIS altogether or joining them inside.

"It's...bigger..."

"On the inside, yes I know." The Doctor cheekily responded.

"You'll get used to it, John, I know I had to. This place goes against every logical explanation I know of. But it is a scientific marvel...." Sherlock said.

John's brows furrowed as Sherlock spoke.

"You know you still never told me how you two know each other."

Sherlock's smile returned.

"I hope you don't think that we were past lovers, John, because if you do, you are mistaken. Besides, do you even go for stuff like that, Doctor?"

The Doctor crossed his arms.

"I'm not having this discussion in front of your fiancee."

Sherlock and the Doctor shared a laugh at that, which made John's agitation come back.

"Will somebody bloody answer me?!"

The Doctor was the one to cease his laughter and answer John's inquiry.

"I met him when he was a kid, if you must know."

"Really?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Yep. I saw him walking home from school one day and well...he looked awfully upset about something but I didn't know at the time."

Sherlock jumped in.

"He didn't recruit me right then and there, it wasn't until later, after Redbeard died..."

John looked at the Doctor, by his facial expression, the Doctor knew that it his turn to provide the explanation.

"I don't know how, and I don't know why so please don't ask me, but I heard him."

John crossed his arms.

"You heard him?"

"Yes, the TARDIS picked up a distress signal and so naturally I listened, it wasn't normal, not like the other ones I have gotten in the past. It was crying, the soft, anguished cries of a child who has lost something precious and dear to them. I couldn't possibly ignore it, I'm the Doctor and I help people...well...there are a few times where I failed in that aspect...but I don't want to dwell on that now. I followed the signal, and it led me to him and let me tell you, I have never felt so much sympathy for a child before. I couldn't just leave him there, alone and helpless, I had to take him, and I gave him back, mind you. I wanted him to smile, even if it was for a little while."

"He took me to Bubopolis. It's a planet with nothing but huge bubbles on it. And then we had tea with Queen Victoria, and that skull, the skull on my mantelpiece, I got that from chasing Jack the Ripper through the catacombs! I got my very own pirate hat from Blackbeard the pirate!"

John wanted to be mad at Sherlock, but he saw how much his eyes lit up as he recalled his time with this strange man known as the Doctor.

"You let a little boy chase one of London's most vicious killers through the catacombs?"

The Doctor's eyes darted from side to side and he clasped his hands together.

"Yeah, I forgot he was still in the TARDIS when that last part happened but, that's not important now."

"But when he left me, he said he would come back, but he didn't. And in time, I simply started to forget my ever meeting him." 

They both had solemn faces on. 

"Well, I'm here now, and we can go anywhere you want. Consider it a wedding gift, speaking of that, when is the lucky day?" The Doctor tried to bring the happy vibe back, before the oppressive and mournful air returned, and he has enough of that. Enough to last him centuries. 

"Oh...well...it's actually...tomorrow."  

The Doctor's eyes widened. 

"What?! Really?!" 

The two husbands-to-be sheepishly smiled and nodded. The Doctor was surprisingly excited for them. 

"Well, now this is a cause for something EXTRA special! We have to make this count, and nothing dangerous, though I can't promise you that, I can take you wherever you want? Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, The Roman Empire, a world populated by a large variety of aliens, where do you want to go, you lucky, lucky sods?" 

John was bit thrown off by the sudden mood change, but Sherlock stayed the same. Well, he would be used to the Doctor's personality if he's traveled with him before, wouldn't he? But still, John was still keeping a wary eye on him, he seemed like a good guy, but how much can a person change in a matter of years? He knows how much he changed since the war. Sherlock looked over at John. 

"Where would you like to go, John?" 

John blinked at the sound of Sherlock's voice. 

"I..uh...I don't know." 

Sherlock's head snapped towards the Doctor. 

"Well, I don't have an idea for once. Surprise us, you're good at that, aren't you?" 

The Doctor liked the sound of that because he cracked his knuckles and turned to the monster of a control panel, John still couldn't wrap his head around the inside. He didn't even know what a TARDIS was. 

"Oh, Sherlock, don't you know? I'm great at surprises." 

He started to fiddle around with the various levers and switches and buttons that were laid out in front of him. John felt the TARDIS shaking and making the same wheezing noise that he heard when he was in his flat. Then, out of nowhere, everybody thrusted forward, Sherlock was holding onto the metal bars and the Doctor was firmly latched onto what John thought was the steering wheel, whereas John had nothing to grab and thus landed face first on the cold floor. He could hear Sherlock laughing at him in the distance and groaned loudly. 

"I forgot to tell you to hang on!" The Doctor shouted. 

John pushed himself up off the floor and held onto the metal bar next to Sherlock. 

"Where are we going, exactly?!" John yelled back. 

"You'll find out soon!" 

"Yeah, John, just manage to stay on your feet until we get where we are!" 

"Shut up, Sherlock!" 

The Doctor interrupted the two.

"Alright, this is where it gets REALLY bumpy! Hang on!" 

"What?! What's he talking about Sher--." 

They were thrusted forward this time and Sherlock let go as well as John, who fell on top of the detective. The TARDIS shifted to the side abruptly and they went rolling across the floor and Sherlock ended up on top of John. They were both breathing in and out from screaming and trying to grab on to the railings but failing miserably. Again the time-machine titled forward and they were both sliding across the floor and only stopped because they banged their heads against the panel. Just like that, everything seemed to stop and calmed down. Sherlock was still laying on top of John, whose legs were no up and pressed against Sherlock's waist, making them look like they were in a very suggestive position. The Doctor pulled the lever down. 

"Alright, I think we're here." 

He looked around and found the couple on the floor next to him, staring into each other's eyes intimately, with growing smiles on their faces. The Doctor's mouth turned into a wry smile and he placed a hand on his chest. 

"Well...get a room you two." 

They both looked up at him and then quickly separated and stood up, brushing themselves and each other off. John was smiling to hide his embarrassment and Sherlock's cheeks were as red as roses. 

"S-so, where are we?" Sherlock asked, to get off of the subject. 

"Well, if I'm correct, we should be in Paris in the year 5454, I hear that it is very romantic at that time, perfect for soon-to-be husbands, eh?"

Once again Sherlock gave a cough and John just kept that goofy smile on his face. The Doctor walked over to the entrance and then opened the door and stepped out. The first thing that was wrong was that it was daytime, and the second thing was that he couldn't see the Eiffel Tower anywhere. He looked around, there were no hover cars, no roads, just horse carriages and people shuffling up and down the street. 

"EXTRA EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT!" 

The Doctor was confused. 

"They shouldn't still have paper boys in the year 5454..." 

And, what's more, the boy had a clearly distinct English accent. That's when he put it together, they were still in England, and they went back in time instead of forward. He saw people gazing at the police box with curiosity before returning on their way, no doubt trying to mind their business. The Doctor went back inside and closed the door. Sherlock and John were staring at him, waiting for him to say something so that they can embark on whatever it is he has planned, but at the sight of his face, they were worried. 

"What's wrong, Doctor?" 

Not really hearing Sherlock's question, he rested a hand on his prominent chin and started muttering to himself. 

"This isn't right, why are we here, how did we get here?" 

Sherlock's brows furrowed as he listened to the Doctor's angry whispers. 

"Doctor?" 

The Doctor flung himself over to the little monitor he had and furiously examined it. 

"Why are we here? We shouldn't be here. Something is wrong, something is very wrong..." 

John took a step forward, wanting to get some clarity as well. 

"Yes, uh, Doctor, what's wrong? Are in the wrong place?" 

The Doctor's hands rested on the panel and his hair fell in his face as he nodded. 

"Apparently, we're in London, 1890."" 

John staggered back. 

"1890?" 

Sherlock responded, "Yes, John 1890." we're in a time-machine, the TARDIS is a time-machine, got it?" 

"I'm not sure that I do, Sherlock. I'm not even sure if I'm awake, or what a TARDIS is." 

"Time And Relative Dimension In Space..." The Doctor answered in a low tone.  

John still needed further explanation and so the Doctor gave it to him.  

"This is a time-machine, you use it to go to different periods in time, bad things can also happen because it's a time-machine and it messes with time. Relax, John, I won't let anything happen to you or Sherlock, however, I can't promise that bad things won't happen."  

John absorbed everything he said, and mentally came to terms that this was real and that this was happening.  

"Alright, but I'm holding you accountable for anything that might happen in advance."  

"Fine with me." The Doctor smiled, and for the first time, John actually returned the smile. Sherlock was glad to see that they were getting along. 

"So what are we going to do now? Can you get us out of here?" 

The Doctor sighed. 

"I don't know...all I know is that we wouldn't be here if there was nothing wrong, but there is something wrong...something very...very...wrong." 

Sherlock's eyes started shining. 

"Do you mean...John, I think we have a case!" 

John's smile widened. 

"Brilliant!" 

The Doctor was beaming and began to race up the stairs. 

"If we're going to be staying here, we're going to have to fit in! Get ready for a Victorian makeover..."   
~~~~~~~~~  
The door to the Tardis opened and the three of them came out. Sherlock was wearing a white dress shirt with a black ascot tied in the collar. He was wearing a navy blue silk waistcoat on top of his shirt. He was also donning a black frock coat and matching, fresh and crisp trousers, along with a shiny pair of black dress shoes. On top of his head, he wore a black top hat with a blue sash tied around it. John admired him, he could see the gold chain that connected the watch to his pocket and was absolutely smitten. John was only wearing a white dress shirt, a black waistcoat and matching trousers and shoe. He wore a black bowler hat and his jacket was draped over his arm. Sherlock couldn't stop staring. 

"All of those times I tried to get you out of those jeans and into proper trousers, you never agreed. What happened now?" Sherlock grumbled. 

"I don't have a choice this time." John retorted. 

"Yes, yes you both look ravishing now let's go, I want to get out of here as quickly as possible..." 

He started walking first and they followed soon after. London seemed more crowded than before, and they spent a good long while pushing past the large crowd and into a more secluded area.

"Where are we going?" 

The Doctor replied, "I'm not sure, just keep walking and I'm pretty sure we'll find something." 

Sherlock couldn't argue and neither could John so they just followed directions. 

"You look...exceptional in that outfit, John." Sherlock said without making eye contact. John had to do a double take at the younger man's words. Did he really just say that? But he had to accept the compliment, it wasn't often Sherlock did it. 

"Thank you, Sherlock, you look...exceptional too." 

He saw Sherlock's blush out the corner of his eye and smiled. As soon as they turned the corner, Sherlock was knocked down by man who was clearly running at a very fast pace. 

"Sherlock!" 

John shouted. He ran over to the groaning man on the floor and helped him up. Sherlock propped himself up on John's strong body and held a hand to his head. 

"Sherlock, are you alright, answer me!" 

Sherlock just groaned. 

"My head..." 

John placed his hand on Sherlock's. He looked over at the man who was now helping himself off of the floor, picking his hat up and placing it back on his head. 

"Watch where you're going next time, yeah?" John stated to the stranger angrily. 

"Pardon me, I apologize for running into your friend but you see I am in quite the rush to escape from my pursuer and my surroundings are the least of my concern." 

Sherlock was still swaying a bit. He might have a bit of a concussion, not anything serious, but he still needed care. Before John could speak, he heard another man running down the street. 

"Holmes! Holmes! Are you alright?" 

The man that was now identified as Holmes now had a small ghost a smile on his face. 

"I'm fine my good man, but I'm sure that our friend here is in need of aid. You see, because we were running at an unusually fast pace, I did not see this gentleman coming into my path and so we collided and I'm afraid he may have something of a concussion now. What can you do about that, Watson?" 

John and the Doctor were confused. Holmes? Watson? Where were they exactly? The man who was wearing the almost exact same thing as John, and almost looked like him, besides the moustache and the heavier build (and that he was slightly taller). The "Holmes" guy looked nothing like Sherlock except that they had the same look in their eyes, cold and analytical. He had a birdlike nose, and his face seemed gaunter and skinnier than Sherlock's, and his cheekbones could never compare to Sherlock's. Watson turned around and saw the disoriented detective in John's arms, struggling to stand on his own two feet. 

"Oh, Holmes, you always manage to give me more work than is necessary." 

He was now talking to John. 

"Do forgive my rather reckless companion." 

John was still puzzled and all he could do was nod. Watson smiled. 

"I'll be more than happy to take care of your friend at our flat." 

"And where is that, exactly?" 

Holmes answered, "221B Baker Street, of course." 

John was mentally screaming. His eyes flashed over to the Doctor, who was giving him the same look, and then back at the two men who not only shared the same last name as Sherlock and himself, but also live in the same exact flat! 

"Uh..yes, yes, of course." 

That seemed to make Watson happy because in no time he had Sherlock's other arm draped over his shoulder and helped the shorter man walk his friend to their home. The Doctor walked next to John and whispered, "Ask them who they are." 

John turned to Watson since Holmes was too far ahead to hear him. 

"So...who are you two, exactly?" 

Watson turned to face John with the same genial smile on his face. 

"My full name is John Watson, but you can call me Watson, Dr. Watson if you want to keep it formal." 

He pointed a finger with his free hand up at Holmes. 

"That there is Sherlock Holmes, the great detective. He has the greatest mind man has ever seen, if not man, then Scotland Yard. He is a consulting detective, the only one in the world." 

If John wasn't holding Sherlock at that moment, he would have fainted. He looked back at the Doctor and all he said was, "Stay with Sherlock, find out more, I'm going back to the TARDIS to find out what's really going on." 

"No, Doctor wait!" John shouted in an angry whisper. It was too late, he was gone. He left him alone with a semi-conscious Sherlock and two people who may or may not be them. But there was nothing he could do about it, he would just have to wait for the Doctor to come up with a plan. 


	3. Chapter 3

It seemed like an eternity before they reached the flat. Sherlock was still dazed out of his mind and every time he would try to stand on his own and walk, he would stagger around like a zombie and would have to be caught by the two Johns before he would make contact with the hard ground. Holmes, he would turn back around every so often just to see where the other men where and if Sherlock was still conscious. Holmes entered the flat, their flat, first just to make some space for Sherlock who had his head hanging and was entirely supported by both Johns, thank goodness he's so skinny, though John still didn't agree with his fiancee's eating habits. 

"Here we are," Holmes said with a sort of flatness. If he was anything like Sherlock, he wasn't too fond of having people in his flat if he doesn't know them or thinks they will provide him with distractions. John could barely stand to live with the one Sherlock he was going to marry, he doesn't know how he's going to manage with two. As soon as he got the last of his endless papers off of the couch, the two Watsons came up the stairs, dragging a now limp Sherlock who gave subtle moans every now and again. John was still waiting for the Doctor to come back, and hopefully he would come back with answers. 

John and Watson made their way to the soft, velvet couch and gently placed Sherlock on it, with John making sure he was extra comfortable before leaving him alone to talk to the two men that stood in front of him. At first, they were having their little hushed argument, much like John and Sherlock have themselves, and then Watson stopped the domestic and turned to face John. 

"Right, I'll get started on your friend right now." 

He walked past John and knelt down next to Sherlock's face. John felt his body getting hot as he watched Watson inspect Sherlock further, he recognized it as jealousy, but he fought hard to get rid of it, Watson wasn't doing anything except his job, which John should be doing as well. John walked past Holmes and over to their sink. He caught Holmes's attention. 

"Sorry...do you have any clean...washcloths?" 

_'Remember John, you're in the nineteenth-century, they don't have the same manner of speech as you do.'_

Holmes's face never changed, it was straight and there wasn't a hint of emotion on it. 

"Oh yes, of course, in that closet over there. Next to the washroom." 

He answered John's question as a passing comment. John was going to have to get used to it, who knows how long he was going to be here? He eventually found the closet and opened the door. Their 221B was in the exact same arrangement as John and Sherlock's, but the decor in the flat, it was less tacky, but there was also an air of refinement in it because of the interior design. The rich red wallpaper with tiny prints of fleurs inside of it painted gold. The couch was elegant enough, velvet, with a rich burgundy color to make it look as if it belonged to royalty. The only things they were missing were the modern day technologies such as, television, a fridge, a microwave, things like that. John turned on the faucet and began to soak the washcloth in the washbasin, hoping that the water was cold. He turned it off and then walked over to Sherlock and gently started dabbing the rag on Sherlock's forehead. Watson was watching him for a while. 

"Whatever are you doing, sir?" 

"It's alright, I'm a doctor too, I can help." 

Watson's eyes widened. 

"Really? I do suppose that's a bit beneficial for me." 

John didn't respond. He sat on the tiny bit of the couch that wasn't being covered by Sherlock and kept at Sherlock's forehead. 

"I think that this concussion has increased slightly since we've first met, doctor." 

John always felt his ego lift a bit whenever he was called doctor or captain. It made him feel good, just like how Sherlock feels whenever he calls him brilliant or amazing. John responded in a curt nod. 

"Well, if I know him, he's going to have quite the headache when he snaps out of this, do you have any medicine?" 

Watson nodded.

"I do have some morphine stored away, I try to keep them away from Holmes." 

"And you do very poorly at that, Watson," Holmes interjected. 

Watson rolled his eyes but returned to the conversation. 

"But I don't want to administer such a potent drug if he has never been introduced to it before. You seem to be close enough to him, tell me, can he handle a dosage?" 

John hesitated for a moment. He knew of Sherlock's past drug use, hell, there have even been times where he had to slap the syringe out of Sherlock's hand or take care of him while he went through withdrawal. Sure he hasn't seen as much as Greg and Mycroft had, but he's seen enough to be worried about introducing Sherlock to a new drug. With a sigh, he nodded, it was for Sherlock's health, and we couldn't bear to see him in pain. 

"But you may have to give him a bit more than that of a normal patient. This isn't the first time he's...used it." 

"Ah, so your companion has the same vice that my own does. Holmes has a nasty addiction to cocaine and although I try to ween him off, he does have the habit of going back to it." 

John gave a tight smile. 

"Yeah, something like that." 

So this Holmes has a drug addiction too. He wondered if they were their ancestors or something and addiction ran in the family, but another part of him refused to believe in that theory because these two had the exact same names as them, they had the exact same professions, and they lived in the exact same flat as them. Something was wrong and the Doctor needed to turn up soon before John lost his mind. Watson looked back at John who was being so gentle to Sherlock, who was now falling asleep. 

"Hey, hey, no, don't do that, you got to stay awake," John said. 

Sherlock's eyes were slowly closing and John stopped wiping the rag on his forehead and started to gently shake him. 

"Stay awake, come on, you can't go to sleep yet." 

"Tired..." Came the slurred response. John really wished that they were back in their time. The time of cars and proper hospitals. 

Watson laid a hand on John's and forced the shorter man to look him in the eyes. Watson saw the worry in his face and he knew it all too well. 

"It's quite alright, sir, he can rest for a while but we have to constantly monitor his actions over the course of the evening." 

John had no choice but to listen to him. He wasn't going to trust him yet, but he had nothing else to go on. He wasn't even sure if this was all real or not, it all seemed like a blur; one minute they were sitting on their bed talking about their marriage and then next thing he knew, he was riding in a time-machine with a madman with a box and ended up in Victorian England. But if this was really happening, then that means that Sherlock really did get a concussion and that they were in their flat, or a version of it and that he was in the company of two men who were exactly like Sherlock and himself. That also means that man who calls himself the Doctor was also in his time-travelling police box trying to find out where they are. 

"You're right, of course, you're right." 

Watson stood up and took his hat and jacket off as he had no use for it anymore now that he was indoors. With his jacket draped over his arm and his hat placed in the crevice of it, he walked over to Holmes. 

"I think, that we should let them stay tonight. Just until his colleague regains consciousness and gets his bearings together." 

Holmes's face dropped and he frowned deeply. 

"What?! Absolutely not!" 

John didn't want to hear them fight about this so he spoke up. 

"Oh no, that's alright, I'm sure that we c---." 

Watson shushed him. 

"Nonsense! Holmes, you are the one that caused all of this and it is only right that you let them spend at least one night here, in the guest bedrooms! Or would you prefer to share a room?" 

John chuckled. He remembered when he was asked that same question by the innkeeper during the Hounds of Baskerville case. He rejected the idea, but now, he wanted it. 

"Well...yes, if it's not too much trouble." 

Watson's courteous smile returned. 

"It isn't, right Holmes?" 

Like a petulant child, Holmes rolled his eyes and then nodded. Watson was highly satisfied with that. 

"Excellent! Our housekeeper shall show you to your lodgings for the night."   
~~~~~~~~~  
After much more debate and Watson's assistance in getting Sherlock into the room, John was ready for bed. The room they were staying in had two separate beds in it, much to John's disappointment. He sat on the edge of his bed, watching Sherlock sleep and wishing for the moment where he woke up. He was getting ready to remove his waistcoat when he heard a knock on the window. It wasn't a branch, it was too forceful and it wanted to be heard. He looked over and saw the man he's been waiting to see. 

The Doctor. 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

John's eyes widened at the sight of the Doctor standing outside of the window. They were sleeping on the ground floor since there were only two rooms on the first. The Doctor reminded him of a ghost, or something otherworldly, he looked like he was almost illuminated, as the contrast of the dark night sky with his pale skin and bulging, wild eyes. He was smiling, at least he was happy to see the men. 

"Mind letting me in?" 

John stopped his process of getting ready for bed and walked over to the window to let the Doctor in. As soon as it was opened enough, the Doctor crawled inside. He looked around for a bit, and then his eyes landed on Sherlock who was still sound asleep. His smile shortened and he walked over to the ill detective. 

"How is he?" 

John turned his attention to Sherlock and walked over to him before taking a seat in the chair he sat next to the bed. He took his lover's hand in his and rubbed it with the pad of his thumb as he let out an exasperated sigh. He let his free hand wander to the younger man's cheek and rubbed it. Pulling Sherlock's hand up, he pressed his lips against the soft skin and kept it on his lips. Remembering that the Doctor was there his eyes shot over to the man and he briefly pulled the hand away to respond. 

"Not sure, he's not in serious pain, yet, and he hasn't woken up either." 

The Doctor's smile disappeared altogether and he clasped his hands together. 

"What about y--, the other one, Watson? What did he say?" 

John caught that. The Doctor changed his words, whatever he found out, it was startling enough that he couldn't even say what he initially wanted to. John decided to ignore it for now, Sherlock was more important right now. Who was he kidding? Sherlock was always important. John's hand moved from his cheek to his curly hair and began to run his fingers through it. 

"He pretty much said exactly what I told you. If Sherlock does wake up with a headache, he'll give Sherlock some morphine to stop it but I'm hoping it doesn't come to that." 

"Why? Sherlock is going to need something for his headache and we aren't exactly in the modern ages." 

John closed his eyes, he forgot. The Doctor hasn't seen Sherlock since he was a child, before he was exposed to the drugs that took over his life as a teen and into his early adult life, he couldn't have known. He gave the Doctor a good stare before he came to the decision to tell him why he had the doubts in the first place. 

"You wouldn't know, you haven't seen him since he was a kid." 

The Doctor's tone deepened and he looked more worried by the second. John's attitude wasn't helping either. 

"Doctor, Sherlock got addicted to drugs when he got older. It was pretty bad too, it was worse when he first started from what I've heard from his brother." 

The Doctor's face changed from worried to grief.

"So he's...still addicted then." 

John shook his head. 

"No, we, and I mean his brother, a man named Greg Lestrade, and myself, we've all managed to keep him away from it. He's been doing a good job at staying clean too, I'm proud of him. But with this morphine...I know that we don't really have much of anything to help him, but morphine is still a drug and I don't want to give him something else to get addicted to." 

John's hand started at the base of Sherlock's forehead and then slowly made its way back into the dark tresses that was his beautiful hair. His eyes were fixed now on his slumbering fiance whose chest rose softly before dropping down again. Everything was quiet, even the air. For a moment, John felt like he would lose his mind with the deafening silence in the room, in the whole house, he was sure that Holmes and Watson were done squabbling for the night and decided to retire for the evening, or just stew in their anger until the next day where they would resume their fighting. Sherlock and John have done that before, it never ended on a good note. It's even gotten so bad that they've almost broke up. Thank god for that case, he didn't want to stop loving Sherlock, not ever. The Doctor walked over to Sherlock and sat down on the tiny bit of space the detective left for him and rubbed soothing circles on his back and gave a small smile of reassurance to John. 

"Sherlock's strong, John, I'm sure he'll be able to handle the morphine just fine." 

John's smile was weak, he was tired. 

"I want to believe you, Doctor, I do, but you don't know how bad he can get with addiction. He just can't handle it." 

"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" 

John's worn eyes flickered over to the Doctor's. 

"Yeah." 

What he wanted right now was to curl up in his uncomfortable guest bed and go to sleep. At least a solid three hours' worth. But then he thought back to the Doctor coming back to him and Sherlock at such a late hour. He exhaled and removed his hand from Sherlock's curls and faced the Doctor completely. 

"So, Doctor, what happened? Did you find out what exactly was going on? Why those two men upstairs have the same names as us, live in the  same flat as we do and have the same professions Sherlock and I?" 

There was no response at first, but John was too drowsy to even find the mental strength to get upset so either the Doctor was going to tell him or he was going to go to bed angry, which was the last thing he wanted. The Doctor's mouth opened slightly and his eyes darted around the room as he tried to piece together a response but to no avail. 

"Well, did you? Go on, tell me." 

"I...have...an idea...but I still need a bit more information, I may tell you tomorrow, I don't know." 

"Doctor..." 

Now the Doctor was talking. 

"Sherlock is more important, John, focus on him, I promise, I'll tell you tomorrow morning, that is, if you don't find out first." 

John found a bit of his energy coming back to him. 

"Find out what, Doctor what are you talking about?" 

"John don't worry about what I have to say, worry about Sherlock, please." 

John groused around before resigning to say yes. If only they had this discussion before he was ready to pass out. 

"Get some rest," The Doctor advised, "You won't be any use to him if you can barely stay awake you know, shame on you, I thought they taught you this in medical school." 

That got a rise out of John. He chuckled. 

"They also told us that it's not good to have a close bond with your patient, but I've broken that rule a long time ago." 

He squeezed Sherlock's hand. The Doctor's tone lightened up and his body shook with hushed laughter. He clapped a hand on John's shoulder. 

"But really, get some sleep, you look like you're about ready to keel over." 

John yawned and nodded, he was very close to sleeping in that chair, but he would pay for it with sore limbs the next morning and a grumpy doctor, wasn't a very friendly, or effective one. He kissed Sherlock's parted lips and rose from the chair, already feeling the effects of sitting in it too long. He gave one last glance at the Doctor, who only responded with a curt nod and watched as John walked the few inches to his bed and practically collapsed in it without even turning the lamp off. The Doctor shook his head with a smile as he watched John fall in a deep sleep in record time. He looked down at Sherlock and started speaking to him, even though he wasn't going to respond. 

"You're special to him, look at what's he doing for you, he's losing sleep for you." 

He took a quick look at John and then back at Sherlock. 

"You are a very lucky man, Sherlock. He loves you, and let me tell you, from what I've witnessed when I first met you, the only other thing that seemed to care for you as much as John does is your dog, and you and I both know what happened to him." 

He bent down to Sherlock's ear and whispered, "So don't you go messing this up, you hear me? You and John have a nice thing going here and you both make each other happy, keep it that way, I know what it's like to have your heart broken and I know you do too. So do me a favor," He paused to look at John, "Be good to each other. It's not good to be alone, trust me, bad things happen when you're alone. You've got a good thing going and I'll be angry at the both of you if you ruin it." 

He got up and walked over to the lamp, giving both of the soon-to-be husbands a glance before turning it off.   
~~~~~~~  
John awoke later that night to the sound of moans and whispers. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he moved to turn the lamp on to see what the noise was. As soon as dim light spread around the room, he saw the Doctor sitting on Sherlock's bed, with said person making the noises that woke John up. John was wide awake now. He jumped out of the bed which was a lot easier since he wasn't under the covers, and ran over to his ailing lover. The Doctor looked over at him and his face read the exact same expressions that John had coursing through him at the moment too. 

"What happened?" 

"He woke up. Not too long after you went into a coma, at first I was just watching him to see if he would just go back to sleep, but then he looked like he was in a lot of pain and started making the rather unpleasant noises that you're hearing now, I've been trying to keep him comfortable the best that I can but as you can see, it's not doing much." 

John's hand immediately flew to Sherlock's hair and he started to run his fingers through it gently as a way to calm him down. 

"John?" 

John's jaw clenched at Sherlock's strained voice. He was never good with headaches and absolutely hated when he got them. John knew he was very unhappy now. 

"It's me, Sherlock." 

Sherlock's lip quivered. 

"My head hurts..." 

"I know, love. I'll get you something right now." 

"This may not be the best time, but you might want to cut back on acting like you're together," The Doctor said. 

John cocked his head and the Doctor let out an exasperated sigh. 

"You realize we're in the nineteenth century, right? Two men being together is not exactly...legal." 

The Doctor's words rang through John's head. He was right. This was the time where everybody had to have wives and children, when two people of the same-sex weren't allowed to be together or even desire a person in that way. It was either you were married to the opposite gender or you weren't married at all. It was punishable by death in some cases. 

"So you can be together...just...no calling each other "love" or holding hands or kissing." 

John's heart sunk a bit. 

"Right." 

The Doctor's mouth opened to say something again but then Sherlock let out another moan and his face was absolutely green. Without even saying anything, John pulled out the bin underneath of Sherlock's bed and moved out of the way so that Sherlock could vomit in it. John was now rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. The Doctor just watched him as he tried to comfort the ailing man. When Sherlock's vomiting ceased, he rolled back onto the bed, panting. John moved his hand from Sherlock's back to his cheek and grazed it with his knuckles. 

"It's going to be alright, I'm going to get you some medicine." 

He stood back up and made stern eye contact with the Doctor. 

"Watch him. Please." 

He responded with a nod and watched as John marched out of the room. He picked up where John left off, he started rubbing Sherlock's back  and tried to place him in a more comfortable position. 

"Easy there, Sherlock. You're not well, if you haven't noticed." 

Sherlock stopped fidgeting around and swallowed hard. 

"Where did John go?" 

His speech wasn't as slurred like before, hopefully that meant that his concussion was starting to fade. 

"He went to get your medicine. Don't worry, he'll be back." 

Sherlock closed his eyes and gave a short laugh but then winced and reached for his head. 

"Good ole' doctor Watson..." 

The Doctor shared a laugh with him. 

"Yeah, good ole' doctor Watson..." 

 

John was walking up the stairs to Holmes and Watson's flat to wake the doctor. He knew that it was late and that he was sleeping, but this was important, Sherlock is ill and this is Holmes's fault so the least he could do was spare a few minutes to give John the morphine he promised. He opened the door quietly and moved at a snail's pace so that he wouldn't disturb Holmes or give both of the men a fright and think that somebody was breaking into their home. The flat was dreadfully quiet and dark. He tiptoed on the floor and avoided the furniture so that he wouldn't make any noise. In the first room he encountered, he heard noises. It sounded like grumbling added with the random clanking of items. That was Holmes's room. From what John heard, he was upset about something, or very concentrated. He didn't want to disturb him anyway, he was already upset for letting John and Sherlock stay the night and he most certainly wouldn't be happy that John was in his flat at and ungodly hour of the night, sneaking around in it. John made his way up more stairs, thankfully none of them creaked as he pressed his foot on the boards. He then walked over to Watson's door and held up his fist before making contact with the wood of the door. He only had to wait a moment before he heard footsteps nearing the door. Watson opened the door, holding nothing but a candle. 

"Who...Oh...hello sir, what has you up here so late?" 

"Sorry, but, my friend..." 

Watson's tone changed. 

"Oh, yes, right. Has he woken up? What's the matter?" 

"He's awake, but he has a headache and he's throwing up. I need that morphine." 

"Of course, if you'll follow me." 

John followed Watson down the stairs and into the living room. They ran over to the fireplace and John watched as Watson fiddled around with a skull on top of the mantelpiece and pulled a small black bottle out of its mouth. They made eye contact with each other and John said, "He has a skull?" 

Watson shrugged. 

"Yes, Holmes claimed that it was a--." 

"Friend of his." They both said at the same time. 

Watson was mildly shocked. 

"I take it your friend has the same thing?" 

John shrugged and nodded. Watson ended the conversation and continued down the stairs and made his way to the guest bedroom quickly. He opened the door to find the Doctor holding Sherlock as he threw up into the half-full bin that was on the side of the bed. Watson set the candle down and made his way over to Sherlock. He didn't notice that the Doctor was there, or simply wasn't focused on that at the moment. He knelt on the floor and waited for Sherlock to finish before unscrewing the cap to the bottle. 

"Take it easy, my good man, I am here to give you a bit of morphine to stop the head pains." 

"John..." Sherlock slurred. 

"Yes, yes I'm here, just open your mouth..." 

Sherlock obeyed and parted his lips as Watson pressed the bottle against his bottom one and titled the bottle up and let Sherlock drink some of the liquid inside. When Watson felt like he's had enough, he removed the bottle and screwed the cap back on. The Doctor laid Sherlock back on the bed and John watched as Sherlock's eyes grew heavy and nodded off to sleep again. Watson stood back up. 

"Well, the good news is that he woke up, this shows that while the concussion is still present, it shall fade in time. Give it a few hours to a day." 

John nodded. 

"We'll be out of your hair tomorrow." 

Watson waved him off. 

"Bah, don't listen to my grumpy companion, you're welcome to stay for as long as you like. Just until he gets better." 

John gave a weary smile mixed with gratefulness. 

"Thank you. I promise that we won't stay long at all. Hopefully, he'll heal fast. He doesn't like to be sick or injured in any way." 

Watson grinned. 

"Really? My word, Holmes is the same way!" 

John was slightly amused. 

"It seems we have a lot in common." 

The Doctor jumped up and stood in between the two men while they were conversing. 

"Sorry to cut this short, I'm the Doctor, by the way, hello." 

He clasped hands with Watson who looked shocked to see him there. So he didn't notice him when he entered the room. Watson shook his hand with a puzzled look on his face. The Doctor removed his hand and placed it in his pocket. 

"Our friend here needs rest and you two are standing here yapping away like women having their afternoon tea. Don't you think this can wait until tomorrow morning?" 

Watson and John just stared at the Doctor. 

"I'm sorry but...you're a doctor too?" 

The Doctor just smiled. 

"I'll explain everything tomorrow morning, for now, sleep! Come on, off you go!" 

He spun Watson around and pushed him out of the room before closing the door. He let out a breath when he heard the muttering and footsteps fade. John crossed his arms and stared the Doctor down. 

"Doctor...what was that all about? What aren't you telling me?" 

He ran over to John and clapped his hands on his shoulders. 

"John don't ask questions until tomorrow. Sleep." 

He led John over to the empty bed and then pulled out his sonic screwdriver. 

"W-what is that? Doctor what are you doing?" 

The green light on the screwdriver and waved it in front of John's face. The last thing John heard before completely falling asleep was, "You'll get all your answers tomorrow..." 

~~~~~~~~

The next morning, John awoke feeling all kinds of sore. He did his morning stretches and then got off the uncomfortable bed. He remembered everything from last night. He looked over and saw Sherlock still sleeping. He walked over to his fiance and ran a hand through his curls before giving him a kiss on his forehead. He gave Sherlock a small smile and left the room. The ground floor of the building was busy with the housekeepers and maids running from room-to-room with all types of stuff in their hands. John still thought that Mrs. Hudson could out clean all of them. One of the younger maids stopped where she was and gave a curtsy. 

"Good morning, sir, Masters Holmes and Watson are waiting for you upstairs." 

John gave a polite smile. 

"Thank you. I was heading up there anyway." 

She blushed but then continued on her way. When John finally made his way up to the first floor, he found both inhabitants awake and already beginning their day. Holmes was sitting at the table eating a piece of toast when he saw John standing there, still wearing the waistcoat from yesterday. 

"Uh, good morning." 

Holmes rolled his eyes. 

"Watson, I think you have a guest." 

Watson emerged from the bathroom, tying his housecoat around himself as he walked into the room. 

"Don't be silly Holmes, I don't have any...Oh, it's you." 

His genial smile returned. 

"Good morning, did you sleep well last night?" 

John's mouth was curled into an awkward smirk. 

"Good, you know, considering..." 

"Yes, I know. Tell me, how does he fare?" 

John inhaled. 

"He's better, I'm not sure, but he hasn't woken up yet." 

Watson tilted his head from side-to-side, listening to John's words. Holmes finished his toast and then took a sip of his tea. He placed the cup down and then folded his hands in a regal manner and placed a smile on his lips that John could instantly see was fake. 

"So, just how long are our honored guests staying, exactly?" 

"Holmes!" 

Holmes's smile fell almost instantly. 

"You would yell at me for asking a mere question, Watson?" 

John realized that they were now having a domestic and he quietly took a step back. 

"The only time I would have to scold you is when you act out in the rude manner that you now possess! This wouldn't be an issue had you only watched where you were running!" 

Holmes huffed. 

"So now all the blame is to be put on me?" 

Watson's face was growing with anger. 

"Precisely!" 

Holmes was ready to retort when the Doctor shot inside of the flat with a loud bang. 

"Good morning gentlemen! How is everybody today?" 

Holmes didn't answer and the other two were surprised. 

"Doctor, what's going on, what are you doing up here?" John asked.  

The Doctor's wide grin was plastered onto his face as he rubbed his hands together. 

"Everybody's here...well, all except for one." 

John was even more puzzled. 

"What are you talking about, Doctor?" 

"You see Watson? He's already inviting friends over." 

"Hush, Holmes!" 

The Doctor spoke again. 

"Has everyone said hello to each other? Shared names? No? Well, I'll do it then."

He bounced around the room. 

"John Watson, meet....John Watson. Sherlock Holmes, meet...well...the other you is downstairs with a concussion." 

"What are you talking about?!" Holmes snarled. 

"Didn't I tell you?" 

John shook his head. 

"Well say hello to alternate dimension you!" 

Everybody's heart stopped, and then all at once they shouted, "WHAT?!" 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor looked at everybody's astonished faces and clasped his hands together, his smile was slowly fading. 

"Well, keep the comments to a minimum guys." 

The three men gaped at each other. The Doctor walked over to John and waved a hand in his face. He wasn't surprised that John wasn't responding to it. He then repeated the gesture to Watson and then Holmes, to no avail. Eventually, he thought it best that he just let them handle the situation as they saw fit. Hopefully nothing bad comes of this.

"This....my word...." Watson breathed. 

"That's....you're....me..." John stammered. 

Holmes steepled his hands. 

"So you mean to tell me that I gave myself a concussion?" 

The Doctor was hesitant at first, but then answered. 

"Yes, well, he's not an exact version of you-" 

"Brilliant!" 

Both Johns snapped their heads to Holmes.

"Holmes?" 

Holmes shot out of his chair and danced over to Watson, his Watson. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and was all in his face with the wide smile that rivaled the Cheshire Cat's and began to excitedly spout word after word. 

"Think about it, Watson!" 

He gave Watson a moment, and then the doctor replied, "I'm trying to, Holmes, but not a thought comes to mind." 

"I thought as much. You see, but you don't observe!" 

He let go of Watson and then spun around to face the other two. He pointed at John with a mad grin plastered on his face. 

"You!" 

John pointed a finger at himself. 

"Me?" 

"Yes! If this gentleman next to us is correct and not some random loon who should be thrown into the local asylum, you are a version of my dear friend Dr. Watson from another, parallel reality of our own, right?" 

John didn't know what to say so the Doctor stepped in. 

"Exactly!" 

"But Holmes, why are you so happy about this? Doesn't this go against every logical thing in which you stand for?" 

"Of course it does, Watson, and yes while I am skeptical about this, I am also deeply intrigued." 

Watson placed his hands on his hips. 

"How so?" 

"Think Watson, think! They came here, they have knowledge of a world outside of our own! Think about all the secrets we could learn from them!" 

Watson scoffed. 

"This comes from the same man who wanted nothing more than to have them thrown back into the streets." 

Holmes turned around and started nearing Watson again. 

"Oh of course I did, Watson, in fact, a part of me still wants them to leave, but the other half, the scientist in me, the part that thinks, that never shuts off, that always has that unquenchable thirst for knowledge wants them to stay and tell me how they got here, what their universe is like, and everything else they can share." 

Watson seemed a bit unsure.

"I still don't know whether or not this is rubbish or they speak the truth." 

"If you do not believe them, then ask them, we've yet to hear their names." 

Holmes faced John now. His eyes seemed confused and a bit lost, but he never faltered. 

"That is true. Would you like to tell us?" 

John was still spaced out but only snapped back into reality or some form of it, and heard the question. 

"J-John Watson." 

Holmes and Watson staggered back at the name. 

"And what do you do...John...?" 

John wasn't ready for this. Was he even giving the right reaction? He was talking to himself! This man in front of him was...it was him! Albeit they have slightly different personalities and look a bit different. But it was still him, and the other man was a different version of his injured fiance! They acted more similarly than he did with...Watson, he'll stick to Watson. Somewhere in his mind he wished that he never stepped foot into that TARDIS, or whatever it was called. 

"I'm a doctor..." 

"Uncanny!" Holmes exclaimed. 

"And...were you in the army?" Watson almost stuttered. 

John nodded. 

"Army doctor. I served with the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, well, that is until I got wounded."  

Watson looked pale.  

"A-And where were you hurt?"  

John grimaced and his arm landed on his left shoulder.  

"Almost did me in. Had to remove the bullet myself."  

"The...leg..."  

John's hand moved to his leg and gave it a few pats.  

"Psychosomatic limp, Sherlock cured it when we first met." 

Holmes moved to hold Watson because he looked like he was seconds away from passing out. Holmes was the only one who seemed to be enjoying this. 

"I do say, John, if I can call you that-" 

"Please," John replied quickly, "I don't think we'll need two Watsons walking around. Well, at least by name anyway." 

"That's me Holmes, that's me. Dear lord...." 

Holmes gave a laugh and ushered Watson to the chair he was previously sitting in and set him down. 

"Take it easy, my dear Watson, you've asked enough questions for the day, it's my turn now." 

Watson clumsily grasped Holmes's hand, but he quickly let it go and rested them on the table. Holmes would shoot glances at Watson every now and again to make sure he didn't expire, but thankfully, he didn't. The Doctor was also the other person who was amused by this. It was easy for him, they weren't interrogating him. Holmes was now shivering with poorly hidden excitement and showing each and every tooth in his mouth. This was something rare, as Holmes was normally cool and calm and collected. He looked very much like a schoolboy who's just gotten a compliment by their teacher. 

"Apologies for my companion. He was always the more sentimental one out of the both of us." 

"T-That's...fine...I don't mind." 

"However, would you care to answer a few questions of my own?" 

"I...guess?" 

"Excellent!" 

He steepled his hands under his chin as he paced back and forth, his mind racing as he searched for all of the questions to ask John. After a moment of silence, a spark came to Holmes's eyes as he did a full three-sixty to face John again. John gulped. 

"Ah, I have one! Tell me, where exactly are you from?"

"You mean, which...reality am I from?" 

"Precisely." 

John looked over at the Doctor, who gave a slight nod, telling him that it was okay to answer. 

"Well, I can't specify which one, exactly, but the one I come from...it's different." 

Holmes's face straightened. 

"I understand that, different how?" 

"Well, we don't use horse-drawn carriages anymore." 

"So then what do you use?" 

"We use....cars. Automobiles that you drive, they can be powered by gasoline, solar light, well...anything really." 

"This is amazing! What else can you tell me? What about the other me?" 

Holmes's brain was moving faster than John could handle. 

"...He's....well you would have to ask him when he wakes up..." 

"Why wait when you can tell me? I'm sure that you live together in your world, same as Watson and I do." 

 _'We do more than live together,'_  John thought. 

"Well yeah but..."

The Doctor stood in the front the two, he could tell that John wasn't ready for this and he needed his own time to process all the new information himself, and Holmes's badgering wasn't helping one bit. With a genial smile, The Doctor said, "I think that's enough questions for now. My pal John needs a few minutes to accept the startling news that I dropped and I'm sure your Watson needs to come to terms as well so if you don't mind, I'll be taking him out now." 

"Wait," Watson called. 

"What is it?" The Doctor replied. 

He stood back up, even though he was shaking a bit. He looked a bit healthier. 

"Mind if I tag along?" 

The Doctor and John looked at each other, silently debating on whether or not they should allow him to come. 

"Are you sure? Maybe you would like to lie down for a while." John responded. 

"No, I can handle it, I was in the bloody army. I would like to get to know you better...uh...John..." 

It was very weird coming out of his mouth. 

"That is, if you will allow me the satisfaction." 

John didn't want to say yes, and he didn't want to say no either. He didn't want to be rude either. Maybe they needed to talk more, to get a better understanding of each other. Discuss what's different and what's similar. Just...try to make the most out of this. 

With a sigh, John gave an unsure nod and gestured for Watson to follow. Watson seemed happy and then walked over. 

"I'll only be but a moment. I have to change into my casual attire." 

He went upstairs, leaving John, the Doctor, and Holmes together. Holmes looked disappointed. 

"I shall not have the answers to my questions, then?" 

"You will, but just not at this minute. I don't even know the answers to some of them myself." 

"The other Sherlock has to wake up soon, hopefully he can fulfill my needs." 

John snorted, "Yep." 

Holmes moved to his chair and pouted. John just remembered that he had to go and check on Sherlock. He told the Doctor and then made his way to the room he was staying in. He opened the door slowly to find Sherlock lying down in the bed still, though he couldn't tell if he was sleeping so he moved in closer. He saw Sherlock breathing lightly, so he was just sleeping now, he wasn't in a semi-coma. He crouched down and gently brushed his cheek and moved some curls out of his face. 

"Sherlock, Sherlock come on, wake up..." 

Sure enough, his eyes fluttered open and John felt his heart jump in his throat. Sherlock's mouth curled into a small smile at the sight of John. 

"How long was I out?" 

John smirked. 

"For a few hours, almost a day. How're you feeling?" 

"I feel well enough that I can walk without the risk of falling down." 

"That's good." 

They made eye contact for a long while before John remembered why he was there. 

"Listen, love, I'm heading out for a while with the Doctor." 

Sherlock's brows furrowed. 

"So what am I supposed to do?" 

"I don't want you doing anything just yet, but knowing how bored you can get, Holmes is upstairs and I think you two will get along well." 

"Holmes?" 

"I forgot, you weren't entirely conscious when we met. Just go upstairs, I'll be back soon, okay?" 

Sherlock glared but then reluctantly nodded. 

"Alright." 

John smiled and then placed a kiss on Sherlock's lips and left the room, leaving Sherlock alone. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Watson didn’t take too long in joining the Doctor and John. They only had to wait a few minutes before he was walking up to them with a warm smile on his face. Sure he was still shaken but he wasn’t going to let it overtake him, and besides, it would be good to get away from Holmes when he’s in the mood to discover the secrets of the universe. It usually ends with a very messy flat and very unhappy flatmate. Placing his hat on top of his head, he also gave John one.

“No gentleman would ever be caught in public without his hat, and you lost yours yesterday so I figured that you can borrow one of mine for a while.”

John felt the hair on his hand and realized that Watson was right, he dropped it when Sherlock got knocked over by…er…well…Sherlock. It was awkward silence at first but John remembered his manners.

“Uh…thanks.”

Watson didn’t reply there wasn’t much need to. The Doctor found his way into their conversation.

“Now let’s get a move on!”

He started walking and they followed after him. It was comfortable outside, John wouldn’t wear so many layers with this type of weather but they weren’t in his time. They were in the nineteenth century and it wearing layer upon layer was considered fashion by the people. He felt sorry for the ladies, who were stuck wearing those hot dresses. The Doctor was stuck in his own little world, so stuck in it that he probably forgot that the two Johns were with him. Every so often, John would see Watson staring him down and then facing forward when he thought John was looking. He was trying to survey John, trying to deduct probably. John knows from experience that no matter how many times he tries to deduce people on his own, he’ll never be up to Sherlock’s caliber. That’s a very learned skill he has.

Not being able to take the quick and quiet glances anymore, he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh.

“Is there something you would like to talk about, Watson?”

That caught the other off guard, his cheeks flushed and he started twiddling with his fingers.

“I…I do suppose I might have a few topics of discussion.”

“Let’s hear them.”

Watson gulped.

“What’s it like? Living with Holmes…Sherlock…I mean. Is it any different from Holmes and me?”

John rubbed the back of his neck. He wanted to tell him, that they were getting married soon, but how would he react to that? Did John even want to know? He decided to keep that to himself, just until he found a better way to tell him.

“It’s pretty much the same thing like you guys. We solve crimes and I blog about it.”

“You…blog?” Watson was utterly confused at John’s word. John forgot about the time period for a brief second and then started explaining.

“Yes, I do blog about cases. It’s like writing a journal about yourself, or what you think about something. In my case, I do the write-ups for Sherlock’s cases, after he solves them, naturally.”

“Ah!” Watson exclaimed, “So it’s very much like what I do for Holmes.”

“You record his cases too?”

“Of course, I’m his boswell, and he would be lost without me, as I have been informed by him.”   

John chuckled.

“Sherlock told me that too, after we had a row, except he called me his blogger.”

Watson laughed.

“It’s nice to know that we’re needed.”

John nodded.

“Indeed.”

They a few minutes sink in before they started up again.

“So there are no differences in our relationships at all, not even a little?”

John shook his head. He hated lying.

“No, not that I know of.”

“That’s too bad. Now that I think about it, this doesn’t sound like much of an alternate universe if we’re exactly alike, minus the physical differences and time period. Your Holmes’s hair is very…”

“Curly and unruly, I know, beau---,” John stopped himself in mid-sentence. He was going to tell Watson that Sherlock’s hair was beautiful. He looked at Watson, who seemed to hear that last part, but left the topic. Good man.

“I should have known that you weren’t of this era, not even the dirtiest rascal in Holmes’s irregulars has that much hair.”

John’s brows rose.

“Care to explain what that is?”

“Ugh, yes. He claims that he needs eyes and ears all over the city, so he finds the homeless children, orphans who run amok in the streets and gives them temporary employment tracking down some person or another. I would argue but at least it keeps them from dying of hunger. He calls them the Baker Street Irregulars, he could’ve thought up a better name for them, but the little buggers love it. Makes them sound like they’re apart of some special spy group, no doubt.”

John laughed to himself.

“Maybe I should have Sherlock name his homeless the 00’s.”

Watson made an expression that showed he wanted further explanation.

“You know, like James…”

“James, who?”

It just struck John that Watson would have no clue about who James Bond was, or what a movie even is. He just shook his hand and waved it at Watson.

“Never mind, you wouldn’t know anyway.”

“Fair enough I suppose.”

They both watched the Doctor strut through the streets like nothing could touch him. Sometimes John wanted to know what went through his head exactly, and what he’s seen. Surely somebody with a time-machine would’ve seen many things. And not all of those events could have been good. Watson interrupted him from his thoughts with a short burst of pleasant laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

Watson brought his laughter to an end at John’s inquiry.

“Nothing of importance, it’s just that, as much as I am loathe to admit it, having you to talk to is very…refreshing.”

“Oh? What about Sherl…Holmes?”

“I do enjoy being around him, believe me I do, but there are times where I simply wish to have the companionship of somebody else. Surely you feel that way at times?”

John shrugged.

“I understand where you’re coming from. I can’t lie, there are times where I have to step outside the flat and get a breather, but that’s only when we have a row and we’re both angry. I always come back though, and then I curl up in b---…It’s safe to say that everything is okay in the morning because we both realize that we do like being around each other, love being around each other, and there’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”

He almost gave away their relationship again. Maybe next time he won’t cover it up, Watson deserves to know. But for now, he wanted to hear Watson’s response to his answer.

“I understand, John.” He said, “I understand completely. I feel the same way; I just wanted to see if you thought the same. Holmes is like a drug, I can’t get him out of my system, no matter how hard I try, though I think I don’t try that hard.”

“I don’t either, and I’m so glad. I don’t know where I’d be without Sherlock.”

He had a few guesses, none of them pleasant.

“Speaking of Holmes, is your Sherlock awake?”

John nodded.

“He’s probably chatting it up with the other Holmes.”

Watson snorted, “One can only think about how that will turn out. Two Sherlock Holmes’s in one room. I do hope the flat is still intact by our return.”

John rolled his eyes.

“One can only hope…”


	7. Chapter 7

       Holmes was musing around in the flat, since Watson left. He found the time to check on one of the various experiments he was conducting even though Watson wasn’t a fan of them. He already had to get rid of the two in his room, no matter how much he didn’t want to. Watson claimed that it was malodorous and that it might cause several health problems should he continue to live in it. He was so proud of it too, he was going to get great results because it was unusually warm in those days when he first started and because of the way the building was built, Watson’s room was in more sunlight than Holmes’s was. So Holmes placed a bowl of fruit on the window sill in Watson’s room, and then another one in his room, just to see how fast they would spoil. And suffice it to say, when they actually did start rotting, Watson wasn’t happy one bit.

All Holmes could really remember from Watson’s lecture was that fruit flies started taking an interest to the fruit, and that Watson almost ate one, something like that. But even though Watson was angry at him and damn near spitting hot coals, he still retained that special air of dignity and refinement that was more known in nobles and people among the wealthier bunch, which Watson was not, despite him being a doctor. Holmes couldn’t help but drown out his rage-filled speech, to admire him further. He just stepped out of the bath, so the heat from the water, as well as the scented soap still lingered on him. He smelled of Cedar and Sage, it wafted off of him and travelled directly to Holmes’s keen nostrils and invaded them. He still had a bit of stubble from when he shaved, the faint fragrance of aftershave mixed in with his soap. His eyes were burning, very likely with anger, but he wasn’t mad at Holmes, just at the experiment. Watson was still in his bathrobe that was opened slightly as he fussed around, giving a peek at his slightly curled chest hair. His hair was still wet, as he washed his hair no doubt. Holmes was lost as he noticed every minor detail on Watson’s body.

He found himself doing that on most days. Sometimes he even wondered if Watson was doing the same with him. A small part of him, a very small part, secretly wished that he was.

His daydreaming was put to an end when Sherlock made his way into the flat. He looked a bit green and his clothes were disheveled. His curls were out of place, but not enough to be noticed by anybody else. His eyes were still lidded, telling Holmes that he was just waking up or recovering from previous events. His body posture showed that he still wasn’t fully recovered, but healed enough to move on his own. He made his way to the couch, with a bit of staggering, and took his seat. He sat like he was expecting something. Ah, he came from a wealthy family, old money, no doubt, much like Holmes himself. He stared intently at Sherlock, watched as he examined the flat carefully. He was deducing. Good boy. Holmes was noting the physical differences between them, of which were many. He wasn’t even going to get started on Sherlock’s hair, or his cheekbones that looked so sharp that somebody could risk cutting their hand open if they smacked him. His eyes reminded Holmes of a cat’s, almond-shaped, piercing, enchanting, cold.

_‘His eyes have more than one color to them, Heterochromia, simple, all the signs, blue, green, grey, with tiny hints of brown and gold. What a fascinating condition.’_

Sherlock’s skin was pale, but he looked like a porcelain doll that was greatly cared for by the owner, even if there are a few flaws. Sherlock’s lips were taut, and his face was gaunt, making his cheekbones all the more apparent. Holmes was done with his facial features and moved on to his hands. Hands can tell a lot about a person.

_‘His hands are smooth. No hints of blemishes, scarring, or discoloration. His fingers are long and nimble. Like that of a violinist. He must play as well. Fingernails are uneven, some are shorter and some are longer, must have the awful habit of biting them, interesting.’_

Holmes’s frantic eyes stopped over the golden band he wore on his ring finger.

_‘Shiny, not new but highly valued, obviously holds sentimental value since he’s taken such good care of it. It’s on the ring finger as well, so it wasn’t given by a member of the family but by a loved one, a lover, has to be. Either an engagement or wedding ring, it can’t be anything else. So who was the woman who tied him down?’_

“Good morning.” Sherlock said.

_‘Good heavens, that voice. He has the looks of a teenage boy but then has such a baritone voice.’_

Holmes pretended to fiddle around with the various chemicals in front of him but gave Sherlock a passing, “Morning.”

Sherlock shuffled in the couch, thinking of something to say. He never was good with conversation with people, it was even worse with people he didn’t know, it never even gotten that far sometimes, they would simply call him a freak, or some other harsh term, and then walk out. Sherlock learned how to tune them out over time, but there were still just some moments where those terms found a way to get to him.

“May I use your bathroom?”

Holmes made a few short noises and then waved his hand in the direction of the bathroom. He watched as Sherlock rose from the couch, hand on his stomach, and made his way to the washroom. When the door closed Holmes looked up at the door. He still couldn’t get over the fact that that person was him!  Sure he wasn’t exactly like him; he was younger, a bit more sentimental, this was made obvious by the ring on his finger. But looks can be deceiving. 

It was some time before Holmes heard the door open again and saw Sherlock walking out. He stopped in front of the chemistry set in front of Holmes and stared at it for a while. Holmes tried to ignore it but eventually, he couldn’t stand the eyes anymore.

“Is there something you find interesting?” Holmes snapped.

Sherlock, completely unfazed by the irritated question, answered.

“Sorry, I was just…your chemistry set.”

“What about it?”

“Mine is weak, John won’t let me have a full-fledged chemistry set, but that doesn’t stop me from keeping a few tubes and beakers around, for cases, that is.”

“That’s silly. Watson permits me to keep my set, so long as I confine it to my area.”

“How generous, do you have anything to eat? I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

“You can check the cabinets if you like.”

“Just toast and tea will do.”

Holmes turned around to see Sherlock inspecting the cabinets and drawers. He found his way to the icebox and opened it to reveal a head in there. He immediately closed it and then looked at Holmes, before opening it again. Holmes watched in slight amusement at Sherlock’s reaction.

“Is that a head?”

Holmes tilted his head.

“Yes, that is a head.”

Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a smile. Holmes couldn’t help but smirk either.

“Are you measuring the coagulation of saliva after death, as well?”

Holmes nodded. Well at least he acted like a teenage boy when he was excited.

“And Watson hasn’t confiscated it yet? John took mine, he and Mrs. Hudson agreed that it isn’t “safe” and it could contaminate the food around it as well. I beg to differ, but you know they always have to be on the safe side.”

“You have a Mrs. Hudson as well?”

Sherlock nodded.

“She says that she is our landlady and not our housekeeper, but landladies don’t buy groceries for their tenants, or take care of them when they’re ill.” 

“I have a Mrs. Hudson too. She’s not in now; she’s out in the country, with her sister.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose.

“Really, you do?”

“Indeed.”

Sherlock took a seat across from where Holmes was sitting. He was very intrigued now.

“Alright, Holmes, was it? You’ve piqued my curiosity now. Tell me, what else do we share? Besides landladies and scientific inquiries, that is.”

Holmes’s smile was subtle, but it was smug. He was enjoying this. He steepled his hands under his chin and mused through his thoughts. Sherlock wasn’t awake for the news that he was him, but if he was anything like him, which he was starting to see, then it wouldn’t take Sherlock long to put it together.

“Let’s see, what job do you have?”

“I’m a Consulting Detective, the only one in the world. Why?”

“It seems that we share the same profession.”

“But…how is that even possible, I’ve never seen you before, and I’m sure Lestrade would have told me.”

“You even have a Lestrade,” Holmes muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry? You said that I even have a Lestrade.”

“I did."

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Holmes unsteepled his hands and then leaned in forward.

“You’re a smart lad, Sherlock, deduce it.”

Sherlock didn’t respond and he found himself doing exactly has Holmes said. Holmes watched as Sherlock’s eyes darted back and forth and bounced all around, it was a miracle that they didn’t fall right out of the sockets. Then Sherlock’s eyes snapped back to Holmes.

“Wait a minute. Everything here is like my flat back home. “

“And your home would be….?”

“221B Baker Street.”

Holmes sat back again and folded his hands together.

“So where you do think you might be?”

Sherlock opened his mouth, only to close it again.

“No…this can’t be…”

“Oh but it is.”

Sherlock had the look of amazement and fear, if Holmes were to describe it. He stood back up and then spun around a few times in a circle so that he could try and make something of this. How? He thought, how could this be possible? He knew that The Doctor was going to take them both on a romantic trip, pre-wedding, but they ended up in Victorian England. He remembered getting knocked over by the man who called himself Holmes, but that was all he could really remember. There were the vague memories of John waking him up and whispering sweet nothings to him, but he had plenty of those memories. He turned back around to face Holmes.

“Your friend, the one with the suspenders, I believe he calls himself The Doctor. He told Watson, John, and me that we were the same person. We just come from alternate universes.”

“So that means that you’re…you’re me.”

Holmes nodded.

“And that Watson is….your John.”

Holmes’s smile faded at the sentence. He never thought of Watson like that. Sure he called him “His dear Watson” but he never actually thought that it held some sort of sentimental value. He saw the officers’ faces whenever he said that to Watson at a crime-scene, but he never took the time to understand why they reacted the way they did. Even Watson was found with a slight blush at the utterance of the sentence.

Never forgetting that Sherlock spoke, he snapped himself out of the temporary daze and forced the smile back to his face. He would have to reflect on that later.

“Yes, yes, precisely.”

Sherlock ran a hand through his curls and resembled a mad scientist who’s just discovered a breakthrough in his work. Holmes couldn’t tell if he was happy or not.

“This is….I don’t know, would you even describe something like this as brilliant?”

“I did, actually.”

Sherlock still seemed pretty conflicted.

“But, Sherlock, there are a few questions I’ve been meaning to ask you, if you care to answer them.”

Holmes’s voice grew serious, as did his face. He returned to his usual praying mantis position and let the questions flood his mind. There were so many things he wanted to ask him, but there was the one question pressing at the back of his head.

“I have asked your companion before but seemed to have insufficient answers and told me to wait for you to wake.”

Sherlock’s tone changed with the conversation.

“What was the question?”

“Tell me, how it is living with John, your John. Is it any different?”

“Why would you want to know something like that? If this is an alternate reality and John and I are still together, then things must not be that different.”

“Just humor me, Sherlock. I understand that the times are different in your world. Indulge me.”

“Are you more focused on how the periodical difference affects our relationship, or how John and I…work?”

Holmes was thinking, and then his eyes met Sherlock’s again.

“A little bit of both, though I would like details on your relationship more.”

 Holmes took notice at how Sherlock started fiddling with his ring.

“Where do I even begin? I guess I should start with how we first met, or maybe you know that already.”

“Was it in a morgue?”

“St. Barts Hospital?”

Holmes nodded.

“Well I guess you know that part. I didn’t think much of it at first, another person to look at; they all look so generic to me.”

“I understand completely.”

“But John Watson isn’t everybody, I know this now. He isn’t a face I can forget, he doesn’t pass by in a crowd. He doesn’t bore me like other people do; I’m interested in what he has to say believe it or not. But that day in Barts, when Mike—“

“Stamford?” Holmes asked.

“Yes.”

“Continue.”

“Mike introduced him to me; I just kind of passively greeted him and didn’t spend too much time on him. I think I just wanted him to leave more than anything, if he didn’t agree to be my flatmate of course, which I expected him to decline. He was at the flat; I took that as a good sign. But he complained about my mess when we got upstairs, but I didn’t hear a no. I thought that he was going to leave for sure after we solved that case together. It’s on John’s blog.”

“Blog?”

“It’s a personal website where people post entries about themselves or their silly little opinion on something or another. John uses his to write up my cases, however.”

Holmes blinked a few times.

“I’m sure you know that I’m going to ask about websites.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“No, as I was saying, John titled the case A Study in Pink---“

“Watson writes about my cases too. He named one, our first one as well, A Study in Scarlet.”

“Well I’m glad that my John isn’t the only one who romanticizes our exploits. Now stop interrupting.”

“Apologies do go on.”

“He stayed and I was amazed, frankly. When I deduced him, he didn’t tell me to piss off, like so many others before him, he called them brilliant, and he said that I was amazing. I am sure that yours said something similar as well?”

“Yes, he did actually.”

Sherlock gave a quick, short smile.

“I knew he liked me, but I didn’t know the depths he would go for me. It was at the swimming pool that I found out. Jim Moriarty, a deranged psychopath who’s tried to kill me and John countless times. He had John strapped to a bomb jacket, made it look like he was the one who was trying to get me. He wasn’t, but I was too distraught to deduce that. I thought I lost my only friend. But he then John did something, I’ll never forget it for as long as I live. He threw himself on Moriarty for me…he was going to blow himself up, for me, me! I could scarcely believe it. We made it out alive, for that I can thank Irene Adler.”

“Wait. Irene Adler, “The Woman”, Irene Adler?”

Sherlock nodded.

“That’s her, “The Woman”. She is another long story, she’s actually part of the reason John and I…well that wasn’t till later. You see…I “died” for two years. My poor John, I didn’t mean to put him through that. “

“Through what?”

“Moriarty wouldn’t let up, he turned my name into a joke, made me look like a fraud, and everybody turned against me. All I had was John in the end, that’s all I ever have in the end. I had no choice, he was going to kill John, and I couldn’t let him do that. Not to my John. I…jumped off of the roof of St. Barts, and made it look like I killed myself. I considered every other alternative but they wouldn’t have worked.”

“My word…”

“I left him alone for two years. I was alone just the same, but John had to deal with my death. He always prefers to suffer in silence, he’s so stubborn. But in those two years I was away, I…I just wanted to go back to John, I didn’t want to be trapped in that prison anymore, if it wasn’t for Mycroft, yes he’s my brother too, I probably would have died.”

Sherlock gave a sad smile.

“But it’s okay now, I have my John back, we’re…we’re happy, he makes me happy, and hopefully I do the same for him. This is what we both need now.”

Holmes seemed more than satisfied with the answer than he originally expected to. He sat back with a pleased look on his face, as if he has eaten a meal that he greatly enjoyed and observed Sherlock a bit longer.

“I see you two are very important to each other.”

Sherlock blushed.

“But enlighten me once more.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Do you and John…do you two desire each other in the way lovers do?”

“If you’re asking me if I love him, then I would have to say yes. I think…no I know I do.”

Holmes looked down. He felt a twinge of hurt in his chest. These two can have each other however they pleased.

“And you can do that? Are people of the same sex allowed to be together?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Yes. Well there still are some that are opposed to people who have relations with the same sex, but they are few compared to the others that support it.”

Holmes had the ghost of a smile on his face. They could be with each other; they wouldn’t have to worry about being sentenced to life in prison, or even death. They were free to do as they pleased. Sherlock seemed oblivious to Holmes’s face.

“Have you ever had the pleasure of falling in love, Holmes?”

_‘Yes, I have.’_

“I…I…wouldn’t know how to answer such a question. I have spent many years learning how to divorce myself from such a debilitating human feature.”

“I have too. I know what it’s like. It gets lonely sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Holmes didn’t answer. Sherlock understood.

“I’m just saying that you don’t have to let everyone in, but it’s nice to have someone. I learned that.”

 _‘I’ve already had the pleasure of letting someone in; I don’t enjoy it as much as you would think,’_ Holmes thought bitterly.

Sherlock seemed to let the tension in the atmosphere leave before examining the flat further. He turned back to Holmes with a smirk on his smooth lips.

“Ah, you have a violin.”

Holmes slowly nodded.

“I bet I know more songs than you.”

Holmes found himself smiling at the comment.

“Would you like to put that to the test?”

Sherlock got up and then walked over to the violin and held it in his hands.

“The people who ask that question are the ones who lose.”

Holmes got up and walked over to Sherlock, ready to teach him a few things about violin.  
~~~~~~~~  
That night when John and Watson got back, John and Sherlock took dinner in their rooms. The soiled plates sat on the nightstand and the two men were sitting in their beds laughing their heads off.

“Where’s The Doctor?”

John shrugged.

“I’m not sure, we were walking with him earlier and he was fine, well, as fine as he can be. Then he got all jumpy and nervous and said that we had to go home. It was a shame too because it was such a nice day out. “

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to join you.”

“Eh, you wouldn’t have liked it anyway. You would’ve gotten bored.”

Sherlock smiled and rose off his bed and sat with John on his. He wrapped his arms around John’s neck.

“Bored, with you? Never! Walking down the street with you next to me is my life-long dream!”

John laughed.

“Alright, sarcasm isn’t needed.”

“Can’t help it, besides, isn’t that one of the things you admire about me? I remember you telling…who was it…everybody on your blog?”

“That’s only because they asked me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock sucked his teeth.

“You can say what you want, John but I think, deep down, that you like bragging about me.”

“What can I say? Not everybody has the opportunity to date and get engaged to the world’s only Consulting Detective. I should count myself lucky.”

Sherlock only smiled in response. John frowned.

“You know I should. You’re brilliant.”

John kissed Sherlock on the lips.

“John…” Sherlock growled.

“What? I’m just kissing you.”

He kissed him again. He peppered little kisses all over Sherlock’s body and gently laid him on the bed. He liked it when Sherlock moaned. He was doing it right. John’s strong hands grasped Sherlock’s thighs and he slowly wrapped them around his waist. He started to unbutton his shirt and Sherlock stopped him.

“John, no, stop it.”

John grinned and he moved to Sherlock’s lips again and Sherlock couldn’t help but wriggle in pleasure. When he finally found the strength to push him off, Sherlock said, “John, listen to me. We’re not at our house.”

 “Yeah, so?”

“We aren’t in our time period either, everybody in the house knows we’re in here, and I’m sure they know what the sounds of sex are, not to mention the rhythmic banging of the bed. Believe me, I would like to have this too, but we can’t. Not now.”

John looked a bit disappointed, but one look at Sherlock’s gorgeous face and he moved in to kiss him again.

“Well we can still have the company of each other.”

He started to pull the covers back, despite Sherlock being on top of them. The bed wasn’t spacious, but there was enough room for two. Sherlock crawled under the covers first and John joined him. John was the big spoon that night. Sherlock turned off the lamp and then rolled over to be embraced by John. He felt a light kiss to his forehead, and John’s grip around him tightened.

“Goodnight, Sherlock.”

Sherlock nuzzled into John’s neck.

“Goodnight, John.”

And pretty soon, the pair was sleeping.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Upstairs, Holmes and Watson were also preparing for bed. Holmes was sitting in his armchair with his nightwear on and Watson emerged from the bathroom. He saw Holmes sitting and he stopped in his tracks.

“Holmes you must go to bed. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”

Holmes gave a faint smile and assumed the praying mantis position.

“Have you heard the good news, Watson? About our counter-parts, that is.”

Watson’s face darkened and he crossed his arms.

“What have you heard, Holmes?”

Holmes’s lip quivered a bit.

“They’re in love, happily and blissfully together.”

There was brief silence in the flat as the two men remained where they were.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware. They’re engaged to be married.”

Holmes had that stupid smirk on his face.

“John has told you that bit, yes?”

Watson bowed his head for a moment before looking at Holmes again.

“It was Sherlock who told me of their relationship. He says that where they’re from, it’s allowed.” Holmes almost forced himself to say.

Watson wasn’t sure on how to respond to any of this.

“And how are we feeling about that?”

“If I’m honest, Watson, I’m not sure. Have you any say?”

“Nothing much, Holmes, but I’m…I’m happy for them.”

_‘Liar.’_

No more words were exchanged, and frankly, Watson was tired. He let out a yawn and stretched.

“Well, that’s it for tonight then, Holmes. I shall see you in the morning.”

“You might, but then again you might not.”

Watson turned his back to Holmes and then made his way to the stairs leading to his bedroom.

“Watson,” The low tone of Holmes’s voice called.

Not turning to face him, Holmes could only make out the side of his face.

“Yes?”

“….Are you happy?”

That caught his attention, in no time; he was facing the husk that looked like Holmes.

“Holmes?”

“Do you find yourself content with the hand you’ve been dealt, Watson? Do you ever feel like you should’ve gotten better than what you have?”

Watson thought. His hand clenched as he pieced together a response. It seemed like an eternity before he responded.

“There are some things that we want that we can never truly hope to have, Holmes. You eventually learn to accept it and make the best out of what you already possess.”

“So you don’t wish for change.”

“Oh absolutely, but the changes I want are changes that I never see happening for a long while.”

“To return to my original inquiry, are you happy?”

“…Yes, Holmes, I should say that I am.”

Watson walked over to Holmes. He bent down so his mouth could be leveled with Holmes’s ear.

“But I can never say that I don’t wish to be happier.”

He placed a hand on Holmes’s shoulder and gave a genial smile.

“Please, get some rest, for me at least.”

“Rest, my dear Watson, is for the feeble-minded, those who don’t have enough stimulant in their head to stay awake. But, seeing as though I do not want a fight, I shall retire to my room for the night.”

Watson gave his shoulder a few pats.

“Good.”

Holmes heard his voice in the distance, “Goodnight, Holmes.”

And then the sound of his feet making contact with the old wooden stairs. Holmes rose from his chair with a heavy feeling in his chest, and stumbled into his room. He locked his door and then made his way to a loose floorboard behind the bed. Inside there was a box, a tiny black box. He sat on his bed Indian –style and opened it. There it was, his trusty friend. The small bottle of cocaine he had, as well as the syringe used to administer it into Holmes’s body. He filled the syringe carefully and waited until Watson’s steps halted to apply it to himself.

“I shouldn’t be doing this, but I see no other option at the moment. This shall have to do.”

He poked the syringe into his left arm. He pressed down on the plunger and felt the liquid enter his body. He closed his eyes and let his head lean back on to the wall. Shortly thereafter, he felt the effects of his drug-induced mind and let them take him to his slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll explain more about what happened during Watson and John's walk in the next chapter! This is the longest chapter yet!


	8. Chapter 8

In the late hours of the night, John woke up to find Sherlock snuggled into his embrace. Usually, John would have been sleeping on his back, as his days in the army forced him into the habit, but tonight, he just wanted Sherlock close to him. He wanted to treasure his presence, since he couldn’t when they were out in public. He remembers the talk Watson had with him while they were out trying to get a better understanding of each other.

The Doctor was walking ahead of them surveying the scene around him, watching the hustle and bustle of the crowded streets with a keen eye as if he was expecting something, which he probably was. Watson seemed to be enjoying the pleasant day while John just walked. He never really was the one to revel in nature, if it was a nice day, he never hesitated to go outside and enjoy it, but that was pretty much the extent to which he appreciated it. Finally, Watson spoke again.

“So John, do you have anybody special?”

John was a bit thrown off by the question.

“What?”

“You don’t have a special lady waiting for you back in your home? No wife?”

John gulped. He shook his head.

“N-no, not quite.”

“Oh? Care to clarify?”

“I just…um…well…I’m…engaged.”

Watson’s brows perked up at the word.

“Really? Pray tell me, who is the lucky lady?”

“That’s….”

John decided to change the conversation.

“Are you married?”

Watson licked his lips as he thought.

“Just the once, Mary was her name.”

John smiled.

“Did you love her?”

Watson huffed.

“Yes, I believe that I was.”

John nodded and twiddled with his thumbs before carrying on the conversation.

“What do you mean by that?”

Watson gave a small smirk.

“I loved Mary, at least, I think myself to have loved her when we first met. We encountered each other through Holmes; she came to him for a case. Her father went missing and the only person, other than herself, was her father’s friend, Major Sholto.”

Watson’s face scrunched up.

“My ex-commander from the army was named Sholto. Odd.”

“That is rather peculiar. But to return to the topic at hand, we eventually found the remains of her father and the treasure he died for. I remember my declaration of love to her. It was very…cliché, if I could remember. I know now that my proposal was from the spur of the moment and excitement of Holmes’s fantastic deduction that solved the case. “

John knew that feeling entirely, but he never proposed to anybody.

“What happened to her?”

“She’s dead,” Watson said casually. John was somewhat shocked at the way he uttered the sentence. Surely he cared for her.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s quite alright, really.”

“How did she pass?”

Watson took a while to reply.

“She simply passed on. Even I can barely explain how it happened, and I would prefer not to as well. Do forgive me.”

“No, that’s completely understandable.”

“Thank you.”

The Doctor gave a quick spin around while he was still in motion. He was definitely looking for something, but what was it? He wanted to ask but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t have gotten any information anyway, so he decided to turn his attention back to Watson.

“You have never answered my question, John. I inquired about your marital status.”

“That’s not important.”

“You may not deem it important; I still think it is only fair if I know. I did tell you about my personal life.”

“Yeah but it’s not personal if we’re the same person, now is it?”

“I suppose that’s true. And it makes it all the more reasonable if you tell me.”

John gave a loud groan. He wasn’t sure how Watson was going to react to the news. But something tells him that he would’ve found out anyway, chances are Sherlock blabbed already to Holmes. Hopefully Holmes reacted well to the news.

“Alright, I guess it is in your right to know.”

Watson nodded in agreement. John shuffled, unsure of how he was to say it. He could blurt it out and then act like he never said it, or he could completely skirt around the idea and try to change the subject but the soldier in him screamed to tell the truth and get it over with. He chose to listen to his soldier side.

“Like I said before, I’m engaged.”

“Yes, yes I know. But to whom, you must tell me her name.”

“That’s the thing. It isn’t a….”

John looked around for any nosy passer-bys and then spoke in a voice that only Watson could hear. Even Watson took the hint and leant in closer.

“My fiancé, or betrothed, or whatever you call them, it’s a man.”

Watson gasped audibly. His eyes widened and he placed a hand on his mouth to conceal any sudden noises. John made an unsure frown and watched as Watson reacted. Watson was quiet for a while before he spoke again.

“Who is…he?”

John gulped. He was sure that Watson was going to lose it now.

“It’s…you know him actually.”

“The only male I know is….Good god…it’s Holmes, er, I mean Sherlock!”

John nodded and gave a sheepish smile. Watson looked about ready to faint again. John moved to catch him if he fell backward but Watson was able to keep himself steady. He held onto his hat and adjusted it even though it was fine the way that it was. John let him get his bearings together before attempting to talk to him further. He soon found the words to speak, much to John’s reassurance.

“I…I…don’t even know where to begin.”

“It’s, uh, it’s alright.”

John was trying to calm him down as much as possible. He didn’t feel like being at the center of the public’s attention at the moment.

“Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Alright…where shall I begin?” Watson chuckled nervously. John didn’t answer.

“I think that the simple question would be how is it, being married to Sherlock?”

John bit his lip. How can he possibly describe that? There were so many things to say, but he didn’t want to overwhelm him.

“It’s…it’s pretty great, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.” This was an awkward conversation for John.

Watson’s mouth twitched into a short smile at that.

“Please, tell me more.”

John shrugged.

“What more is there to say? He loves me, and I love him. I’m just glad that everything turned out the way it did. We’ve spent so long just trying to admit our feelings for each other. I’ve spent all my time denying that we felt for each other in that way, or that we were even a couple, but now, it’s the other way around, funny how that works. Of course, I always thought that he couldn’t feel things that way, since he always proclaimed himself a sociopath, I made the mistake in believing it.”

“What made you find out otherwise?”

John’s mouth twitched.

“I started to see the real Sherlock Holmes, the one who made jokes, the one who had the awful laugh that I’ve come to adore so much, the Sherlock Holmes who’s terrified of spiders, the one that feels too much, the Sherlock that he’s locked away for such a long time. I’ve always caught the faces he made whenever somebody said something particularly rude to him.”

“What do they say to him?” Watson asked, a bit upset.

“They like to call him names; freak and psychopath are the popular choices. I know that he isn’t the nicest person in the world, and that he doesn’t always say the politest things, but you know he mainly fights back because they start the argument. And part of me thinks that he was a lot nicer and kinder when he was younger, but people took advantage, or the bullying started and it made him into the person he is now. I’m pretty sure that Mycroft had a lot to do with it as well. Mycroft is his older brother.”

“Oh that much I know, Holmes has the same brother, I too think that he has a lot of explaining to do for his brother’s cold demeanor. Holmes barely speaks a word of his childhood, but I do hope that he hasn’t had to go through the same rough one as your Holmes does.”

“Maybe, maybe not, if he isn’t willing to talk about it, then it’s probably because he doesn’t want to relive it.”

Watson took that to consideration, but he wanted the conversation to continue.

“Please, go on.”

John was amused at Watson’s eager curiosity.

“But as I was saying, I knew that deep down, Sherlock was a good person, and he is, even though few others can see that. As far as I’m concerned, nobody has ever taken the time to understand him fully. From what I see, people are quick to dismiss him and label him, same as he does to them, but that can’t continue. He smiles around me, a lot actually. He has a cute smile, a bit crooked, but still nice all the same. He’s nicer, well, his version of nicer, when he’s around me. He’s downright attractive, I can’t stress that enough. But all in all, we’ve been through some shit, and I’m glad we ended up where we did.”

Watson couldn’t stop smiling, neither could John. In fact, this is the happiest that he’s seen him.

“Is it…I mean, can you…?”

John’s smile somewhat faded as he tried to understand what Watson was trying to say.

“What is it?”

Watson took a deep breath.

“Is it legal? You can show your affections in public without any repercussions, right?”

John’s smile faded completely.

“Yes, yes, it is. Sure there are a few gits who don’t like the fact that people like someone of their own gender, but other than that, yeah. People can choose to love whoever they want.”

Watson’s smile seemed sad for a brief moment, but then the warmth returned.

“That sounds absolutely splendid, I’m…I’m so happy for you…” Watson trailed off on the last part. John took this opportunity to ask his own question.

“What about you and Holmes?”

“What about us?”

John swallowed.

“You know what I mean. How do you feel about him? How does he feel about you?”

Watson hesitated to answer, John felt as if he wasn’t even going to try to answer.

“We are companions, and nothing more.”

“Yes but I sort of get the feeling that you two…you know…”

Watson’s eyes darted over to John.

“I have come to care for Holmes….a great deal…and I’m sure the feeling is returned, but it doesn’t matter, there is naught we can do about it. Our society frowns upon relationships such as the one you and your Holmes have, and the one my Holmes and I yearn for…”

Watson’s lip quivered at the statement. He took in a shaky breath.

“But I’m glad that you two have that right, you can be together and not give a care in the world. Here, if we dare to do such a thing, we shall find ourselves either facing time in prison, or hanging from the gallows if such a punishment is necessary, and I rather not face the hangman’s noose at the moment.”

“I’m sorry for making you talk about this. Truly, I am.”

Watson gave a short chuckle.

“Nonsense, I’m only telling you the norms of our society and how they differ from yours. There’s no harm in that. But I will tell you one thing, I envy you, only just a little bit, but my happiness outshines any feeling of jealousy.”

“Why are you so happy?”

“At least one version of us got what they wanted in the end.”

That’s when The Doctor interrupted the conversation, probably for the better too. He threw his arms around the both of them and had a wide smile plastered on his face.

“Hey guys, I think it’s time we started heading back now, don’t you think? The sun is setting and wouldn’t want to be caught out here at night, oh no, not with all the cut-throats and thieves and…rats.”

John was stuck in a stammer on his first word.

“Don’t worry, John, we’ll get something to eat on the way back, I’m feeling rather peckish too.”

And just like that, he turned them around and started walking. John could’ve sworn that he saw The Doctor looking behind him every so often. That made John very suspicious.

 

Watson’s words rang in his head that night, which is probably the reason why he woke up in the first place. He looked around, The Doctor came back. He was sleeping on the vacant bed. Sherlock was out cold; his thin body was pressed against John’s so closely, he could feel the light movements of Sherlock’s chest. He smiled at Sherlock’s sleeping form and pushed a few curls back. He placed a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead and managed to settle back into a comfortable position. He closed his eyes and eventually found his way back to sleep. But then his thoughts could only go to Watson’s words.


	9. Chapter 9

Watson walked into the living room to find Holmes already awake and sitting at the table with only a cup of tea that Watson thought was far too cold for human consumption. Holmes was already in his thinking position; his hands steepled under his chin, his eyes narrowed and fixed on one position, his mouth, tight and pursed as he prevented any noises from leaving his body in fear that his whole train of thought would be thrown off. It was still very early, about seven in the morning, If Holmes was awake at this hour, which was only if he was on a case, he would still be in his room. It was rare to see him out before the sun actually hit the sky. Watson had half a mind to snap Holmes out of it but he didn’t feel like being the brunt of Holmes’s anger, especially so early in the morning. He wanted to talk to Holmes; he really did, after hearing about Sherlock and John’s relationship, he felt like they should discuss it, he already knew how he felt about it; he just wanted to know how Holmes took it. He was happy for them, truly he was, but Holmes seemed to be a bit downtrodden about it. Watson let out a sigh and fixed himself a cup of tea and took a seat in the other chair. Thankfully, Holmes already took the liberty of bringing the paper with him to the table so Watson wouldn’t have to ask him for it.

“Alright, let’s see the news of today, shall we?” Watson muttered to himself as he flipped open the newspaper.

He found his article of interest and began reading, all the while peeking at Holmes to see if he came to yet. There were times where he found himself staring at Holmes and not being able to look away. It’s only when he saw Holmes’s eyes flicker that he would turn his gaze to the bolded letters printed on the newspaper and act like that is what he has been doing. He wondered what it was like having Sherlock for himself, to hold his hand, to give him the light kisses on his cheek or lips whenever he felt like it, to hold him close. Sherlock and John are probably doing the same thing downstairs, good for them. Sure he was a bit envious that they were able to do such things without the disapproval among their peers, or without the fear of their lives and freedom. How he longed for a society where everybody was accepted for who they were and who they wanted to love, but he won’t be around when it happens. At least somewhere out there, in the vast complexity of space and time, there was at least one version of them, one out of who knows how many, that got that chance.

It seemed like hours before Holmes said anything. Watson looked at the clock and saw that it was only eight o’ five. So he’s been like this for a good hour and some minutes. Watson was done with the paper at this point, he was only reading it over again because he didn’t want Holmes to think that he was watching him the whole time, which admittedly, he was doing. Watson reached for his tea again which was cold, but there was only a sip left in it, the same can’t be said for Holmes’s cup. When he was done mentally scolding the full cup, he heard Holmes’s deep voice say, “Good morning to you too, Watson.”

Watson nearly spat out his tea. He had to force it down his throat before he said anything. He slammed the cup down, and the newspaper along with it.

“My word, Holmes! You scared the Dickens out of me!”

Holmes just smiled.

“How long have you known that I was here?”

Holmes removed his hands from under his chin and folded them on the table.

“Since you walked into the living area, naturally. I am not blind, Watson. Even when lost into the folds of my mind, my ability of sight still remains.”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct. You’ll pardon me then, I thought it best that you were not disturbed when you go into your daze of thoughts.”

“That is most kind of you.”

Watson grabbed his teacup and walked over to the kitchen counter and ser the teacup down. He then walked back over and grabbed Holmes’s.

“You’re up rather early, Watson.”

“I could say the same to you, but you are not one for sleep most days.”

“You are correct.”

Watson let out another sigh. Holmes’s brows furrowed.

“What has you troubled, Watson?”

“Do you honestly care, Holmes?”

“A miniscule part of me does. However, the other side of me wants nothing more than for you to stop moping about.”

“I suppose I could not get much sleep last night.”

“And may I ask why?”

“It has much to do with our guests sleeping downstairs.”

Holmes’s face was sullen.

“Ah, yes, them.”

Watson turned to face Holmes again.

“Don’t give me that Holmes; you know that you think about their situation just as much as I do.”

“What is there to think about? They are what they are and that is it.”

“Exactly, Holmes, they are what they are. They are engaged to be married, they shall be married soon. None of this troubles you even in the slightest?”

No response. Watson rolled his eyes.

“Holmes, I understand that you hold yourself above feelings unlike every other human, but nothing stirred inside of you when you were given the good news?”

“Good news?”

“Yes, this is very good news, don’t you agree?”

Holmes brought his hands to his mouth as he leant in to understand what Watson was talking about.

“Should I? Pray tell me, why should I agree to this?”

“Holmes, we’re finally given what we want.”

“We’re? Do not mistake that they are not us, Watson. While they share the same name and back-story, it does not mean we are the same entity. They are their own person.”

“But an alternate version of us, Holmes. They are us, in a sense; they are the version of us that got to be together. We should be happy for them.”

Holmes blinked and Watson groaned.

“I don’t understand Holmes, what is it that you refuse to be delighted about?”

Holmes’s eyes slowly danced away from Watson’s. It was then that Watson understood.

“Oh Holmes, for such a smart man who shows little to no emotion, you always seem to betray that notion.”

“Spare me, Watson.”

Watson walked over to Holmes and knelt down. He wanted their eyes to meet.

“You wish that it was us in their place, isn’t it Holmes?”

Holmes didn’t respond and only moved away from Watson and tried to look as detached as possible. But Watson has lived with him for so long that can look past the man that Holmes wanted people to think he was, and the man that Holmes really was.

“Holmes, you and I both know that that will never happen.”

“I am highly aware of that Watson.”

He was getting irritated.

“So why not try and be happy, for them?”

“I am, Watson. Have I no right to be envious?”

“You have every right, Holmes. But we can do nothing about that, they will be husbands, they desire each other in a way that our society forbids us to. They can do what we can’t. They are happy, as we should be. I am tremendously overjoyed for the two, of course I wish to be in their place but such is the way of human nature, and as I said before, we all wish to be happier. So why not channel our happiness to them, give our support and show them that there is nothing that we want more than for them to be together and be happy for as long as they shall live? We share the same love they harbor for one another, let us think of that and only that. Being unhappy for them won’t change our roles at all, we’ll still be like this, and they’ll still be together. Tell me Holmes, where is the harm in that?”

For a very long time, Holmes was deadly silent. Watson understood and patiently awaited his reply. Holmes’s eyes looked like they wanted to say something so bad, that they had everything planned but nothing could come out. It almost pained Watson to see this, Holmes has never been so conflicted, not even for a case, but this was entirely different. This was personal, and that was the one things Holmes could never handle like he could his cases. Finally, Watson felt pressure on his shoulder, it was Holmes’s hand. A faint smile reached his lips, it was almost missed, but Watson caught it.

“My dear Watson, I completely understand from where you are coming from, and I agree with you whole-heartedly. I won’t lie to you there will always be that underlying pain that is resentment inside of my very core, and I don’t think that it will go anywhere. But I can live and I can live with you knowing that somewhere in the vast darkness that is time and space that there are two men, who will slumber in the same bed, who will touch each other in a way we don’t dare to touch one another, who will share a relationship that those who are of a man and a woman and not have any regrets and live in shame, two men who will be married and bask in all that is domestic bliss. I can rejoice that those two men go by the names Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, are the same men who share all those privileges that a wife and husband should. While there is little joy in my life, Watson, I shall find the joy in that, just as you are.”

Watson’s hand trailed up to Holmes’s pale one and gave it a squeeze.

“That is all I ask of you, Holmes.”

“It need not be asked, Watson.”

They stared at each other for who knows how long. It seemed like time never passed when they were in the company of each other. Both of the men found each other in their darkest moments, and neither could really explain nor tell the other just how grateful they are for meeting each other all those years ago.

“And when they awaken, we shall all go out, it has been some time since the weather has been good to us and I intend to take advantage.”

Holmes’s shoulders shook as he gave a quiet laugh.

“I do not expect any less of you, my dear Watson.”

Watson rose back up with that same warm smile and retired to his room, leaving Holmes to his thoughts about their conversation.


	10. Chapter 10

While Holmes and Watson were upstairs coming to terms with Sherlock and John’s relationship, the other pair was still downstairs, sleeping soundly, regardless of the sunlight shining through the sheer curtains. The Doctor woke up before they do, he didn’t even remember going to sleep. It’s rare he ever has the chance to find a few moments of peace to take a quick nap, but he was glad that he had the chance. He was lying on the bed now with a book that was in the drawer of the nightstand next to it. Every so often he would glance at the couple on the other bed, knocked out cold; he was trying to be patient, and to him that meant that he had to ignore every impulse to jump on the both of them and scream good morning, which was proving to be a very hard task. After an agonizing two minutes of fighting off the urges he sighed and threw the book to the side and stood up. He stretched out his limbs to prepare for his stunt, cracked a few knuckles and stood in the readying stance. With an intake of air, he ran over to the unsuspecting pair and then jumped, landing right on top of them shouting, “GERONIMO!”

 The both of them shot up, only to be halted by The Doctor’s weight on the top of their bodies.

“Doctor!”  They both shouted in unison.

With laughter in his voice, The Doctor rolled all over them shouting, “Good morning! It’s about time you two woke up; it’s really no fun when everybody is sleeping, nothing to do to pass the time.”

John glared at The Doctor.

“But you have a time-machine!”

“Surely you can find something else to do while we sleep,” Sherlock interjected.

The Doctor rested his head on Sherlock’s hip and shook his head.

“Yes I’ve tried to find a way to occupy my time but there is only so much you can do in Victorian London that doesn’t involve the TARDIS.”

Sherlock was now stretching, as was John, who let out a loud yawn.

“But Doctor, you can easily go and have a quick glimpse at alien life a billion years from now, you can go and incite a war that never happened if you wished it, or you can go and have a nice shag with Robin Hood if you really wanted to,” Sherlock pointed out to The Doctor, “You don’t necessarily need us to do all of this.”

The Doctor considered all of this, but then his brows furrowed as he sat up.

“You raise an interesting point, Sherlock. But, I can’t go on all of these….wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey adventures without my companions!”

Sherlock and John gave each other questioning looks.

“Your…companions?” John restated.

“Yes!”

Sherlock’s mouth scrunched up but The Doctor didn’t know why.

“What is it? Why are you giving the pouty face?”

Sherlock spoke this time.

“Doctor, I think that you calling us your companions is a bit….premature.”

“Why?”

“Because, we’re getting married soon, or in the future, or in another universe, whatever, and we want to enjoy domesticity, John does more than me, but that’s beside the point. I’m sure you know that after a wedding ceremony comes the sex holiday, er, I mean honeymoon, yes?”

The Doctor nodded.

“I still don’t see what you’re telling me.” He was trying to be optimistic and it hurt, because he knew exactly what they were saying.

John took over.

“After that comes married life, Doctor. Sherlock and I…we want to live our lives, and don’t get us wrong, we’re having a blast being with you, you know, what with Sherlock getting a concussion and us meeting…us.”

“John,” Sherlock whispered.

“But you know we want to start a family, kids and the like.”

“I have no idea where John got THAT idea from. Children never even made its way into my head.”

John dismissed Sherlock’s statement.

“We’ll speak more on that later, Sherlock.”

Sherlock huffed whereas John kept talking.

“We’re just not sure where you fit into the picture. And by that, I mean, disappearing for days on end fighting in the inquisition or watching Marie Antoinette get decapitated, or meeting a real life alien.”

Even Sherlock seemed remorseful, as if he spoke John’s words.

“We hope you don’t take this the wrong way, we’ll cross each other’s paths I’m sure.”

John gave a thin smile.

“Yeah, you could stop by the flat for a cuppa, or something like that.”

The Doctor didn’t want them to see that he was hurt at their rejection. Sure there have been others who’ve chosen the safe way out, unlike his other companions, and decided not to join him on his escapades. He was proud of them, in a way, they knew that while the tantalizing thought of time travel sat in their minds, they still found a way to fight it and live their pedestrian lives. Still, there was that dull aching in his chest at their words. They were trying to be nice about it, but what they were trying to say was, “We cannot stay with you Doctor, you are dangerous.”   

They were right, weren’t they? He was dangerous, some people feared him, he’s blown up planets, and he’s had people die for him when they only knew his name. Most of his companions either got out with their lives, or they died. He’s seen more deaths than a man should, especially the deaths of the ones he cared about. Of course they would opt out, they liked living, and they would rather perform the same morning ritual rather than risk being shot at by Daleks, or turned into Cybermen. But he hated being alone. The TARDIS is so much better with people in it, not a lone space man with too many memories he could do without. But he still managed to give one of those goofy smiles and prayed silently that they didn’t look directly into his eyes and see through him.

“Oh I get it, you’ve seen one dimension, and you’ve seen them all, eh?”

Sherlock and John were still worried but they tried to lighten the mood too.

“I’m sure that there’s many different AU’s of us.”

John turned to Sherlock.

“AU?”

“Alternate universe, John.”

John just stared luridly at Sherlock as he started to explain himself.

“Think about it, there could be an AU where you’re a flower and I’m a bee, or where we meet as teenagers or children instead of adults, or an AU where we’re mystical creatures and whatnot. There could even be an AU of us where our society is separated into groups like dogs or wolves, alphas and omegas, think about it John!”

John rolled his eyes and then focused on The Doctor. He rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Try not to take it too hard, yeah?”

The Doctor’s smile widened even though it hurt and gave a cheerful nod.

“You’re not the first ones to turn me down. It’s okay; I’m tough I can handle it.”

But was that really true?

“Now, come on, I’m sure Holmes and Watson are awake, let’s go see what they’re up to.”

Just like that, all three of them got up from the bed and headed out. Sherlock was still spouting ideas of alternate universes.

“John, there can even be AU’s where we don’t even have the professions we have! I could work in a coffee shop or something.”

“Shut it, Sherlock.”

“There are endless possibilities, John!”

When they got upstairs, they found the two men already dressed as if they were going somewhere. Watson greeted them with a bright smile.

“Ah, you are finally awake!”

John rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

“Yeah we are. Sorry, why are you dressed?”

“Holmes and I decided that we should all go out, and enjoy the day we have been bestowed with, isn’t that right, Holmes?”

Holmes had something that resembled a smile as he gave a curt nod.

“It is.”

Watson’s smile seemed to beam even more. John knew that it was because Holmes was actually being compliant for a change; he felt the same way whenever Sherlock agreed with him. Turning back to Sherlock and John, Watson said, “Now then, you two should go and clean up a bit, you are not suitable company for the outdoors with your clothes all disheveled. Have you nothing to change in?”

Sherlock smirked, “It is not as if we planned to come here. We didn’t pack our bags and come up with the wonderful idea to spend some time in Victorian London with our alternate selves.”

Holmes’s shoulders shook a bit, causing a brief hit from Watson.

“I didn’t know laughing at a joke was cause to be struck.”

“Hush up, Holmes.”

Watson then started talking to Sherlock and John.

“We’ll be more than happy to lend you some of our clothes then.”

John cut Sherlock off before the younger man could even speak.

“That would be well appreciated, thank you.”

“Certainly, now, if you’ll follow me.”   
~~~~~~~~  
There they were about half an hour later walking through the cobblestone streets of London, enjoying the nice weather and the company of each other. They would’ve been out faster, but Sherlock wanted to look as “presentable” as possible, what he really meant was that he wanted to look gorgeous. John knew that there were some self-esteem issues tied to that reason, but he would always tell Sherlock how good he looks when he’s in clothes, and when he’s not. The blush that reaches Sherlock’s cheeks is one of the things that keep John going.

Holmes and Watson were of course walking together, while Sherlock, John, and The Doctor were walking side by side. John and Sherlock were fighting their hands so that they wouldn’t connect. They couldn’t wait to leave, they were free to do what they wanted with each other as they pleased and there would be no threats of arrest, or anything. They would be husbands, and even though Sherlock didn’t show it as much as John did, he was pretty damn excited.

Watson was making lively conversation, as was John, while Holmes and Sherlock just watched as their companions chatted with each other as if they’ve been friends their entire life.

“And the next thing I know, Holmes is sulking around the flat with a singed eyebrow! He still won’t tell me to this day, at most I get a ‘simply an experiment gone wrong, Watson.’”

John found that amusing while Holmes did not.

“I’m so glad you think that divulging rather embarrassing stories about me is a good way to pass the time.”

“Oh Holmes, they aren’t blabbermouths! You won’t find it in the papers tomorrow morning.”

Holmes gave up.

“Yeah, Sherlock has a few funny stories too.”

“John, I would prefer it if you don’t say anything about any of my mishaps.”

“Oh I understand, but first, let me tell them about the time you fell into the manhole.”

“John!”

John was laughing and fighting off Sherlock’s deft hits. He had to get used to dodging them since they were living together.

“How was I supposed to know the manhole was open since the man we were chasing ran right over it?!”

“He opened it while you were still recovering from that jump. He was just smart enough to open it on the other side so he wouldn’t fall in.”

The Doctor, Holmes, and Watson were all laughing at their squabble. It wasn’t serious; they could easily tell that Sherlock and John have had the playful fights more than once. Holmes and Watson made the mistake of glancing at each other and immediately, they couldn’t turn anywhere else. The Doctor was the only one really watching where they were going. Eventually, Sherlock and John’s argument were done and they were walking with each other as closely as possible without actually making any bodily contact.

“John, look, it’s a cemetery.”

The whole group stopped and looked over. Miles and miles of headstones covered the green grass that had brown patches in it. The headstones looked like they were from all kinds of different periods in time, but no doubt the much older ones, the ones from centuries ago were farther in the actual graveyard. John shivered at the sight of all those graves.

“So it is.”

Holmes and Watson were now staring at it too.

“These types of places always send chills down my spine,” Watson said.

“My dear Watson, you mustn’t be so affected by the sight of graves. There will come the day where we too shall end up like our unfortunate friends here.”

“Holmes! I would prefer it if you kept your macabre thoughts to yourself! Show some respect, this is the dead you speak of!”

Sherlock pointed at one of the mausoleums.

“Look there, that statue. I’ve never seen one in any cemetery I’ve been to.”

“Yeah, me either.” John added.

“Nor have I. Have you seen such a statue before, Holmes?”

Holmes shook his head.

“It is unfamiliar to me as well.”

Sherlock turned to The Doctor.

“What do you suppose it is, Doctor? Have you seen anything like it?”

The Doctor squinted as the mausoleum was quite a distance, but he eventually found it. It was an angel statue. Gray and worn, adorned in the robes of the divine creatures with wings that fan out. Its eyes are being covered by its hands. The Doctor was immediately alarmed, he’s seen many like it before. Although it looked unassuming, it was one of the most dangerous things he’s had to face.

It was a Weeping Angel.


	11. Chapter 11

“Everybody stay still and don’t blink, for the love of all that is sacred DO NOT BLINK!”

They were all shocked at the sudden change in mood, but followed his orders as they stared at the angel statue.

“Doctor, what’s going on?” John asked as he stared intently on the statue.

“I will explain everything when we get back, for now, take slow steps backwards and keep your eyes fixed on that angle statue, do not blink. Do not blink until you cannot see that statue anymore, do you understand?!”

“Yes, Doctor,” They all said in unison.

“Good, now, I’ll be behind you lot, don’t turn to face me when you hear my voice, just stay like that.”

And there they were, walking backwards in the middle of the street, eyes fixated on the angel statue in the graveyard, careful not to avert their gaze or to even blink no matter how much their eyes burned and ached from lack of moisture. The angel was far from sight, but still visible to them, and The Doctor was repeating his instructions every so often.

“Hang on, we’re almost there.”

John was trying his best to keep his eyes open and not blink; he tried to ignore the stinging sensation that is dry eyes. He started to wonder if his eyes were red, but even if they were, he would have to deal with it; eye drops weren’t invented yet, so he would just have to rely on his body to repair itself. There was a breeze, not a cold, sharp wind, but a cool one, a breeze that suited the warm climate well. John was able to keep his quivering eyelids from shutting but he felt something land on his eye and basic instinct caused him to shut his eyes temporarily, just to get whatever speck out of his eye and stop causing him more discomfort than he already had. He blinked. And when his eyes opened again, the angel seemed to be closer. Not directly in his face, but it was obvious that it seemed to be back in his view, and it turned too. Its face was not that of an angel. It was gnarled, and twisted. It wore a deep frown that held razor-sharp teeth to add to its grotesqueness, its fingers did not resembled that of a delicate divine being; they were claws, claws of a vicious animal. Its eyes, they possessed no pupils, all it had was blank, stone-grey eyes. There was nothing there. John was convinced now that it wasn’t just a simple statue any longer.

“I SAID DON’T BLINK!”

“I’m sorry Doctor, something got in my eye.” John responded as if he were back in boot camp being chewed out by his drill sergeant once again.

“Did it just move, Doctor?” Sherlock asked.

“I will explain everything when we get back, for now, don’t focus on anything else.”

Sherlock followed instructions for once and swallowed hard as he fought everything in his body that was screaming for him to close his eyes, for him to blink. But if it moves every time they blink, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt to listen, just this once. He couldn’t see what the others were doing, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Holmes and Watson following directions but forming their own opinions on the matter. They might have been communicating without saying anything.

“Alright, we’re almost out of its view, do not blink or it will get closer.”

“Doctor is it? How much longer must we keep this up? I doubt our eyes shall let us keep them wide open like this any longer,” Watson said.

“I know you’re all doing fine, just until we get far enough.”

“And just how far do you want us to be?” Holmes added.

“Just…no more out of you lot, I’ll tell you, I promise.”   
~~~~~~~~  
They finally made their way back to Baker Street without blinking until they were down the street from the building. The first thing everybody did was immediately hound The Doctor for his bizarre instructions.

“Doctor,” Sherlock started, “What was that?”

“Yeah, that certainly wasn’t a normal statue,” John interjected.

“I am happy to know that I am not the only one who has witnessed the statue’s apparent movement.” Watson sighed.

“An angel with the face of a demon, very interesting, don’t you agree Watson?”

“This is hardly the time to go on one of your thinking sprees, Holmes!”

“How very unoriginal, “thinking sprees”? I am simply paying closer attention to its details, details make everything that much more interesting, Watson!”

Before they could start arguing, The Doctor spoke over them.

“I believe that I have the answer to all of your questions.”

Sherlock crossed his arms.

“Come on then, let’s hear it.”

The Doctor gave a faint smile and then rubbed his hands together.

“That statue you saw, yeah, not so much a statue, more like a quantum-locked humanoid.”

Everybody gave him questioning glares.

“Okay, let me explain first before you all start hitting me.”

Both the Holmes said, “You have two minutes.”

The Doctor gulped.

“They’re called Weeping Angels. They’re very dangerous, yes they are statues but looks can be deceiving. When you see one you must not blink under any circumstances. Don’t blink, don’t move, and don’t even breathe. Every time you blink, they get closer, and if they get close enough to touch you…”

John was the one who spoke up.

“What happens then?”

The Doctor’s face was grim now and his tone darkened.

“If they touch you, they’ll send you a different period of time, it could range from the Victorian ages, to World War Two, and you’ll have to live the rest of your life out there, alone, and in an unknown place…you’ll have no way of ever coming back.”

The others seemed bothered by this.

“That seems…rather merciful of them, Doctor,” Sherlock uttered, “Why don’t they just kill us instead, that seems like the better alternative. Why send us back in time?”

The Doctor gave a low rumble of a laugh.

“Because, Sherlock, they feed off of the time energy of your life. For however long you live, that’s how much they eat.”

Watson’s gasp was audible as he removed his hat.

“My word…”

“This is troubling indeed.” Holmes muttered to himself.

“But why are they here, Doctor?”  John asked, “Were they always here, or did they find us?”

“I don’t know, there can be all sorts of reasons, but I think that us being here might be one of the reasons for their showing up.”

“Let me guess, it has something to do with the time energy, yes?” Sherlock said.

The Doctor nodded.

“But there has to be something else, something else we’re missing.”

Watson spoke up.

“What do you suppose we do? If they are as dangerous as you claim they are, surely they have to be stopped.”

“Yes they do, Watson. But I need to find the reason they’re here.”

Just like that he turned to leave.

“Doctor, Doctor wait!” John and Sherlock called out after him.

“Until I know what’s going on, you can’t come with me. Not with Weeping Angels out there, too dangerous.”

“Doctor!” Sherlock called again.

“No! No, Sherlock, I can’t risk it; I won’t risk it with you, any of you. You two have a wedding coming up and you have to get back to your world, and you two, Holmes and Watson, you cannot get harmed, or else the timelines will be messed up and trust me when I say, nobody wants that.”

“So where are you going to go?”

John was a bit irritated now. The Doctor had a nasty habit of running off.

“To the TARDIS to see if maybe she could give me something, if there is anything abnormal happening then she would be the first to know.”

Holmes spoke now.

“What is a TARDIS, Doctor?”

“She’s the reason why we’re here.”

Holmes’s eyes lit up.

“Ah, so this would be your time-travelling machine, yes? You refer to it as “her” so she is your ship.”

“Spot on detective!” The Doctor said enthusiastically.

Holmes’s cheeks turned red from being flattered at the compliment The Doctor gave him. Watson couldn’t help but smirk, Holmes always seemed to have a weak spots for compliments on his genius and brilliant deductions. But just as happy as Watson got when he saw Holmes’s reactions to compliments, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad at the thought that it was because hardly anybody pays him one. But that didn’t matter because he had Watson now, just as Watson had Holmes.

“So you just want us to stay here, instead of with you where our chances of survival would be better.”

“I know Sherlock; I know you want nothing more than to be out there with me, I’ll come back for you I promise. I just need a better understanding of what’s going on.”

“But you said it yourself, I’m your companion, and we’re supposed to do this together!”

The Doctor froze at Sherlock’s statement. He was his companion, they both were, John and Sherlock. He brought them with him to go on an adventure and to see all the wonderful things that time and space had to offer. Sure he said that this would probably be their first and last adventure together in all the years they’ve been away from one another, but that didn’t matter. In this moment he was The Doctor’s companion and they were supposed to stick together no matter what. But he also had to make sure Sherlock and John survived, he can’t be responsible for their deaths, he won’t be because it won’t happen.  He’ll come back for them; they won’t be apart for long.

“Sherlock….I....”

Sherlock was already flashing him the puppy eyes. The Doctor sighed in defeat. He has no choice now.

“Alright, you can come but you have to stay with me at all times, it’s getting dark out there and we need to keep our wits about us.”

Sherlock went in his coat pocket and pulled out a flashlight.

“I brought it with me just in case.”

Holmes looked as if he has found the next big scientific breakthrough. He was fawning all over Sherlock’s pocket-sized flashlight and took it from his hands.

“What is this?”

“This is a flashlight. It’s powered by electricity and it works a thousand times better than a candle or a gas lamp. Observe.”

He clicked it on and it shone on Holmes’s chest. The man looked as if he has been struck with a fatal blow.

“Brilliant! This is absolutely marvelous! Look at how powerful the light is, it could shine for miles in the dark, Watson!”

“I see Holmes, it is quite fascinating.”

“This is more than fascinating; this is...why there isn’t even a word sufficient enough to describe this. The future certainly is a marvelous wonder!”

Sherlock was very pleased with himself for showing off his flashlight. He clicked it off and then made his way to The Doctor.

“We should be off now, Doctor. I would like to see this thing through.”

“Right, off we go!”

Just like that they left the flat. Before they could leave the building, they were stopped again by John.

“Doctor wait!”

The Doctor huffed and turned around.

“What is it now?!”

“You know what I’m going to say—“

“John…”

“No, shut up Sherlock, I won’t let you go out there alone. Not when there’s more of those Weeping Angels stalking about.”

“John I’ll be alright, The Doctor will not let any harm come to me.”

“Yeah, and neither will I because I’m coming with you.”

The Doctor interrupted their little row to add his own opinion.

“John if you go out there with us, you are at risk just as much as we are. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“There is no risk because nothing is going to touch him, do you understand me? If they think they can mess with my Sherlock then there will be hell to pay.”

Sherlock wanted to be angry with John for being so stubborn but he couldn’t stop blushing.

“Stop it, John, don’t be rash.”

John grabbed Sherlock’s cheeks and crushed their lips together in a rough kiss full of passion. The Doctor darted his eyes around a bit uncomfortable as John took it upon himself to plant one on Sherlock. It took Sherlock some time but then he returned the kiss, no doubt after recovering from the shock of it. John’s fingers went to Sherlock’s curls as he grabbed them. Sherlock moaned in pleasure and tried to go further into John’s mouth than was possible. The Doctor couldn’t thank oxygen enough because eventually they needed an intake. John pulled apart and they were both panting messes with smiles on their faces.

“Now I don’t want to hear anymore about this, Sherlock. I am going with you and that’s that.”

 Sherlock couldn’t respond verbally and just nodded.

“Wow Sherlock, he’s definitely a keeper.”

Sherlock had a faint blush on his cheeks as well as a soft smile.

“Yep, that’s my John.”

They watched as John swung the door open and fell to the ground.

“John!” They both exclaimed as they ran over to him. He was unconscious, that much was clear. The Doctor bent down to examine John further as Sherlock searched around them with his flashlight. Nobody was there. He was going to turn his attention to John when he felt something prick him in the throat. He touched it and it was a poison dart.

“Doc…tor….”

The Doctor looked up and saw Sherlock sinking to his knees.

“Sherlock!”

But Sherlock fell to the floor, unconscious as well. The Doctor got up and started spinning about like a madman.

“Alright, who’s there?! Why are you doing this?! Come out now and face me!”

All of a sudden, The Doctor heard a voice say, “With pleasure.”

And then all he saw was black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update has taken so long, but school has started.


	12. Chapter 12

Watson paced around the flat; he only halted to glance at the clock before resuming his pacing. Holmes was attempting to read one of his many books but was distracted at Watson’s frantic musing. With a roll of his eyes, he marked his spot on the book before closing it and setting it on his lap. He steepled his hands under his chin as he observed his companion grumble to himself and stop to check the clock and then reverted back to his grumbling. Holmes was a bit amused at this sight, Watson wasn’t the one to grouse around the flat like this, but after a time, it began to get under his skin.

“What are you doing, Watson? If I had to guess, I should say that you are taking over my job.”

“Where could they possibly be, Holmes? They’ve been out for hours, the sun is about to rise.”

Holmes sighed.

“Well they went with that Doctor fellow, yes? I’m sure they’ll be back. If they’re anything like us then they are more than capable of fighting off any trouble, should they run into it.”

“I suppose you are right. But what worries is the fact that they were advised to stay behind, possibly for good reason?”

Holmes shrugged.

“I should think it has something to do with that Weeping Angel that we have encountered earlier today.”

“Ah yes, that was an uncomfortable situation that I would rather not find myself in again.”

“But The Doctor has seen something like this before, he was the one who helped us get away, as well as provide us with the information on the peculiar statue.”

“If you were to tell me that statues could move days before all of this, I would be quite the skeptic. Wouldn’t you, Holmes?”

“You know what I say, Watson, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains,  _however improbable_ , must be the truth.”

“Yes I know that Holmes, but I know you, and you would have outright rejected the idea with scorn and mild amusement.”

Holmes smirked.

“You know me all too well, my dear Watson.”

“I wouldn’t have remained with you for this long if you still remained a mystery to me now would I?”

“Perhaps, but you enjoy the labyrinth that is my life.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

Holmes thought that he had taken Watson’s mind off of his worries, but realized that he failed when he saw Watson’s eyes flicker over to the clock and immediately began tapping his foot impatiently. He didn’t grumble this time, but Holmes knew full well what he was doing.

“You know Watson, you can tap your foot all you want but I doubt that’ll make them appear any faster.”

Watson sucked his teeth.

“I know this Holmes, but I can’t help but worry.”

“And what will that do?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You can sit here and worry all you want, but they won’t know that you’re doing such a thing. It doesn’t help the situation either, if anything it’ll make matters worse. You hype yourself up with scenarios, none of them good, and then bad things might happen due to the fact that you filled your head with nothing but negativity.”

Watson crossed his arms.

“I hardly think you’re one to talk about negativity, Holmes.”

“I can be as negative as I choose, Watson, but I never find myself worrying about anything anymore.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I now find myself in your company, my dear companion, you provide the necessary tranquility that my brain craves.”

Watson felt his cheeks flush at the statement. That was one of the highest compliments Holmes has ever paid him and he could feel the heat rushing all over his body. Holmes was truly a one of a kind man.

“I’m very glad that you think of me so highly. It is rare you ever take the time you pay somebody a compliment.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t think of you as just another man?”

“How do you think of me then?”

Watson was quite amused.

“I think of you as John Watson, my companion, my partner.”

Watson could not handle it any longer; Holmes was being extra vulnerable since they’ve encountered Sherlock and John. Maybe this was a good thing.

“Stop it Holmes, you flatter me.”

“I believe that was the point, Watson.”

They spent a while staring at each other with the rare expressions of tenderness and affection in its purest form, the expression of love. They weren’t displaying it as two love-birds would. They were subtle. They only allowed themselves to show it through soft smiles, bright eyes, and silence. To anyone else it looked as if they were simply staring at each other, but only a true romantic could see. They would code their love by using “My dear Watson” or “Brilliant, Holmes!” and the people around them would dismiss it as general conversation or the usual, but it was so much more than that. It was their way of courtship, and even though they couldn’t physically express their amorous feelings towards one another, that didn’t stop them from showing that they care deeply for each other.

“Did you hear that?” Holmes asked.

Watson shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Holmes. What did you hear?”

“I thought I heard the door open, but that may be my imagination.”

“Maybe they others are back now!”

“Yes, hopefully, maybe then you can finally stop your bothersome foot tapping.”

Watson ignored his snide remark and made his way to the door to their flat, patiently awaiting the arrival of Sherlock, John, and The Doctor. He took notice that it was taking them longer than usual to make their way upstairs and thought that maybe they retired to their room for the night. He knew he should let them be since they might have been tired, but he wanted to check on them. He wanted to know why they were out so long. He opened the door to only be met with a dart to his neck, and before he could even register what caused the sharp pain he found his vision fading and his body growing weak. He opened his mouth and his lips quivered as he tried to call out for Holmes, but it was too late, he fell to the floor with a loud thud. It was loud enough to alert Holmes.

“Watson? Is everything alright?”

Not hearing a response, Holmes rose out of his chair and slowly made his way over to the open door. He nearly fell over Watson’s body. He immediately bent down and began to check his friend frantically, finding the dart lodged in his neck.

“This dart was poisoned. But how…?”

He heard a short whistling noise and felt a pinch in his throat. Feeling the area around, he felt the dart. He fell on top of Watson’s unconscious body and forced his body to fight the effects of the poison just enough to see who done it. Unfortunately, the drug was potent and it worked quickly, his vision was already blurred and all he could make out was a man’s body slowly inching towards him.

The last thing he remembered saying was, “Who…?”

But then everything went to black.   
~~~~~~~  
Holmes awoke with a jump. As his senses were returning to him, he took in every detail he could to deduce his location. Who knows how long he was out? He tried moving but then realized that he was bound to a chair. His wrists were tied together with rope, as were his feet. He felt unharmed, minus the small headache he was getting. His vision became clearer, he looked around again to find another person seated next to him. That person was none other than Sherlock. He was passed out, with his head slumped down and body limp. That’s why they never came back, they got kidnapped just the same as Holmes and Watson did. But this wasn’t a coincidence; the people who captured them knew what they were doing. They were specifically targeting the four of them, but why?

“Sherlock, Sherlock, wake up!”

Sherlock responded with a moan. He could hear Holmes, his body responded to the call.

“Come on Sherlock, we have to get out of here, wake up!”

Sherlock’s body jerked, but he still didn’t open his eyes. From what Holmes could see, not only was Holmes bound and tied just as he was, but he had a tie wrapped around his mouth. Holmes looked around the room to see if he could use something to release his hands. The room was dark, even he could barely make out where anything was, never mind the drugs hindering him further. Holmes took another glance at Sherlock and then took in new details. His clothes were disheveled, meaning that these people were not gentle with him. He must have been awake earlier but gave the captor/captors trouble and they decided that drugging him was the only way to get him to comply.

Despite the circumstances, a small part of Holmes found this entertaining.

“This isn’t quite how I imagined my evening, but cases seem few these days.”

He looked at Sherlock.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Sherlock. We’ll get out of this yet.”


	13. Chapter 13

While Holmes was in an abandoned room with an unconscious Sherlock, Watson awoke to find himself in the same predicament. He wasn't tied up, that much was clear. He was laying face down on the floor as if he was carelessly thrown into the room like he was a ragdoll tossed aside by a child who no longer had any use for it. With the coldness of the hard floor, Watson pushed himself up to his feet, dusting off his coat and pants and any other part of the body that could have been coated with unwanted dust.

"Those brutes!" He muttered to himself.

After he dusted himself off, he looked around to see if there was any way he could get out of this place before any misfortune were to befall him. It was dark in the room, with only a dimly lit lamp resting atop a lonely nightstand in the center of the confined space. As far as he could tell, he was alone, but he was determined to find Holmes. With a deep breath he made slow and careful steps up towards what looked like a door. With each step of his foot, the room echoed the noise. Watson felt his nerves jumping at the thought of being alone with no idea of where he was or what would happen to him. He may have been in the army, and they may have taught him how to suppress his fear, but they didn't get rid of it. Fear is what makes a soldier; it drives them to always be alert and to remain cautious no matter where you were. Fear reminded the solider to keep his weapons close at hand and ready to fire should anything decide to pop out at him. Fear is what keeps the solider alive when they're stuck in a ditch, surrounded by dead bodies of people they once knew and called their friends. For it is fear that makes the solider angry and brave enough to shoot anybody in his sight just so he could live to see another day. And right now, fear is what was driving Watson to make his way to freedom with no weapon, no idea of what was going on, and no clue as to where his dear partner was. Fear was Watson's companion at the moment.

 

With the next step Watson took, he heard a noise not belonging to his feet or his breathing. He was not alone. Already in a defensive stance, he spun around on his heel to where the sound came from. It was low, but noticeable.

"Show yourself at once!"

There was no response.

"These eyes may not be as sharp as years past, but I warn you, I am a soldier and I am well-equipped to handle a fight, with or without arms so I shall tell you once again to show yourself!"

Watson squinted as he peered into the dark corners of the room, still not finding the reason for the noise. The hairs on his neck were standing still; he felt shivers make their way down his spine. He was scared, he knew that much. But he wasn't going to let the enemy find out. It was then he heard a very familiar voice.

"Take it easy, Watson."

From the darkness emerged John with his hands up as if he were to be arrested by the police. He had blood coming from his head. A head wound, no doubt. His clothes were dishelved and had patches of dirt on visible areas. So they were even less gentle with him it seemed.

"Ah, John, you nearly sent me into cardiac arrest!"

John gave a light chuckle and set his hands down.

"I'm sorry, Watson. I was only just waking up."

"So they got you too. Whomever it was that drugged Holmes and myself."

John nodded.

"Yeah, they snagged Sherlock and me right in front of the flag, they used poisoned darts."

"So you never even left the building? I was worried that the three of you would never return."

"Nope, we've only gotten to the front door before Sherlock and The Doctor had their row, I included myself in it as well. As soon as we cleared that mess up, I remember getting hit with one of those blasted darts. I heard Sherlock shout my name, and then everything else was blank."

Watson nodded in understanding.

"Holmes and I were discussing your whereabouts upstairs when Holmes remarked that he heard a noise, but I heard nothing. We thought that it was you lot returning from your outing but we were wrong, as you can see."

John hissed in pain and a hand shot up to his head. It landed where the trail of blood was.

"Ow, fuck my head."

Watson held a hand to his mouth as he heard John's words.

"John Watson! You have the mouth of a sailor!"

John looked at Watson through pained eyes.

"Yeah well I'm sorry, but my head is killing me. I think I cracked it open on something when they threw me in here."

Willing to overlook John's use of foul language, he walked closer to him.

"Come, let me check."

John let Watson pull his head down to examine him fuller.

"Yes, you have a slight cut, but nothing too serious. You'll only need a good cleaning and some bandages and then you shall be fine."

"I'll worry about that once I find Sherlock."

"Ah, then you were separated from him as well?"

John nodded.

"Nobody better has laid a hand on him."

Watson couldn't help but smile.

"Your love for him, as well as your loyalty, it's very....heartwarming....It renders me breathless at times, I will admit."

"Thanks."

Watson gave a curt nod.

"But all of this can wait; we must find Sherlock and Holmes!"

John ran over to the door that Watson was trying to approach earlier when he thought he was alone. John rested both of his hands on top of the wooden door and pressed his ear against it.

"Doctor, Doctor are you there?!"

That's right, The Doctor, Sherlock and John's companion. If he got them out of trouble before, surely he could do it again.

"Oi! Shut your mouth!"

The voice belonged to a complete stranger, no doubt one of the people responsible for the kidnappings. John turned around to face Watson and gave a nod. Watson knew exactly what he was planning; he was thinking the same thing in his head. John placed his mouth to the door and responded, "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll come in there and knock your 'ead in!"

John's mouth twitched.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"So come on then, knock my head in!"

John removed himself from the door and stepped back to give the person a wide berth so that they could come in. The door swung open. John and Watson both narrowed their eyes so that they could get a better visual on their target. The lamp was utterly useless. With each step the stranger took, John's hand started to clench into a fist, and Watson set his jaw and posed in an intimidating stance.

"Alright," John whispered, "When he gets close enough, we attack, and then we get the hell out of this room. Understand?"

Watson nodded.

The suspense was killing them, it was almost as if it weren't a person walking towards them but a ghost of some sort, haunting them and making them think they lost their minds. But once a foot stepped into the light, John and Watson were ready. However, when the rest of the stranger's body was revealed to them, they realized that it was no stranger at all.

It was The Doctor. He had a wide smile on his face and extended his arms like he just performed a wondrous magic trick before their eyes.

"You called?"

John's eyes widened and he found his nails digging into his palm at the sight of The Doctor.

"Jesus Christ, Doctor! Do you know what we were going to do to you?"

"Well if you were clever...you would jump me and then escape. Am I right?"

His smile was going to drive John crazy.

"Yes, we were! Why didn't you just tell me that it was you when I was calling your name through the door?"

"I thought that you could use a good laugh right now and now I'm starting to think that I was...wrong."

John had his mouth open.

"Yeah, no kidding."

The Doctor didn't reply for a minute. But then he found the right words and said, "Well look on the bright side, I opened the door for you!"

John glared at The Doctor and then began to make his way out of the room with Watson in tow. The Doctor eventually made his way besides the two.

“Do you know what happened to Sherlock, Doctor?”

“Or what happened to Holmes for that matter?” Watson interjected.

The Doctor shook his head.

“I got drugged too. The last thing I remember was leaving the flat.”

“So that means that none of us here has any clue as to where Holmes or Sherlock is. This is just great; this is what I look forward to.”

“Now now John, if we work together I’m sure we can find them. This place is only so big.”

“If it wasn’t for you, Doctor, we wouldn’t even be here! We would still be at home lying in bed, talking about our wedding, TOMORROW MORNING!”

The Doctor was taken aback, but he let him vent, he knew that he was very worried for Sherlock, as he rightfully should be. Watson just stood there, not knowing if he should intervene or not.

“Why did you even show up, Doctor? You still never told us.”

“I told you, John, I was simply checking in.”

“You were checking in on a man that you’ve forgotten about for ten plus years?!”

The Doctor gave an awkward smile.

“My memory is a bit funny?”

John’s nostrils flared as he turned his back on The Doctor and Watson and kept walking. The Doctor looked over at Watson, who gave a warm smile.

“Do not worry, Doctor, he is just worried for his partner’s wellbeing, try not to take to heart.”

The Doctor adjusted his bowtie and looked stunned.

“Sherlock should have warned me about his temper.”

Watson rested a hand on his shoulder.

“He is driven by the fear of harm coming to Sherlock, just as you and I are. He’s also a soldier, and we are only restricted to but a few emotions.”

“So I’m starting to see.”

Before John could disappear out of their sight completely, they managed to catch up with him in search of Holmes and Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end, I only have around three or four chapters left. 
> 
> Send me ideas for the next story in the series! I have a few of my own but I'm saving them for later.


	14. Chapter 14

While John, Watson, and The Doctor scoured the halls for them, Sherlock and Holmes were still tied to their chairs. Holmes has been trying to deduce every item in that room in hopes that it would get him and Sherlock out unharmed. Since the lighting was so poor, Holmes could barely make out anything that wasn't next to, or near the lamp. Every so often he would check to see if Sherlock was awake, but each time he looked, Sherlock was still out cold. He would give small jerks and make small noises here and there, but he never fully gained consciousness yet.

"Come on man, wake up!"

Holmes was getting irritated. He knew that it was useless trying to deduce in the dark, which is why he preferred not to be in it, but it would be so much simpler with two Sherlocks, just this once, at least.

Holmes was about to move his chair closer to Sherlock's until he found a small chip in the back of his chair.

"Brilliant!"

Immediately, he began to grind the rope tied around his arms that were no doubt covered in burns from rubbing against the rough material against the chip. It would take time but he would still be free in the end. He found himself concentrating on nothing else besides Sherlock's wellbeing. He could feel the determined beads of sweat form on his forehead, and the wetness of the tip of his tongue as he tried to break free of the rope that bound him. Obviously the person who tied this knew a great deal about knots and the like.

"Hang on Sherlock; we'll get out of this yet."

Sherlock's head was still slumped down and his body was limp. It felt like Sherlock was trying to wake up, trying to respond to Holmes, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Whatever they were drugged with did its job. This also means that the person or people that captured them knew of botany, not a lot, but just enough to learn of the poisons. Whoever they were dealing with was a force to be reckoned. This was no average person. They thought this out very carefully, everything seemed too calm. Usually this is the part where the goons would come in and beat Holmes up for trying to escape, but there was nothing. The only other person that he has seen is Sherlock. But as he was fighting to be free, there was that passion in him that drove him, the passion and the fear of Watson's health. Holmes grew angry at the thought of anybody hurting Watson. Not him.

"Aha!"

He heard the rope snap as the blood started flowing through his wrists again. They made his hands feel funny but he ignored the feeling. He looked down at his wrists, definitely rope burned. He bent down to untie his ankles that were numb as well from lack of blood and let the rope fall to the floor. He stood up but had to catch his balance on the chair as his legs were not prepared for the sudden movement. He stopped himself from falling on the floor thankfully. When he regained his balance, he dusted off his coat and his pants and swiftly made his way to Sherlock's chair. Kneeling down to get Sherlock's binds off, he started whispering in his ear.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, come on, we have to go now."

"John..." Sherlock whimpered.

"I assure you he's okay. John, Watson, and that chap, The Doctor, they're all okay and searching for us as we speak."

Holmes knew that he wasn't literally speaking to him, but he also knew that Sherlock could hear him. Maybe talking about John could help speed the process a bit.

"We must make haste, Sherlock. Whoever has us hostage no doubt holds something dastardly for us."

His body jerked. Good, he was getting to him.

"Sherlock, your John is not with us at the moment. The people who kidnapped us separated you from him and Watson from me. I've no idea where they are or if they have been taken to another location. We have to look for them and it will be much harder with me having to drag your body everywhere. Wake up!"

He was moaning.

"You can hear me, can't you? You can hear the echoes of my voice ringing through your marvelous brain, yes? Can you hear me when I say that John Watson is in dangerous? Do those words reverberate through your eardrums? Shall I say it again? John Watson is in danger. You must wake up, Sherlock. We haven't much time. We need to act now and I can't leave you to the darkness of this room. I need you to wake up at once, Sherlock Holmes!"

He held his hand up and struck Sherlock across the face. Of course it would sting, but he wasn't doing it out of anger, it was clear that Sherlock needed assistance in returning from the state of slumber that he was in. He needed just enough shock to force him out of it, and hopefully that was enough. Sherlock awoke with a strained yell. He looked around at his surroundings while trying to get out of his bindings.

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Sherlock stop this at once! Use your head, Do not let fear rule you!"

Sherlock's breathing was frantic, but as soon as he felt Holmes's hands on his shoulders, he started to settle down and stopped fidgeting around in his chair. Holmes didn't even get the rope off of his wrists yet because he started fighting to get out. As Sherlock's head turned up to meet Holmes's eyes, he breathed out, "Where am I? What happened?"

"I only know the same as you, Sherlock. Do try to not fret; it would make getting you out of this infernal chair easier."

"Where's John?!"

"I'm not sure. What I do know is that the same people who attacked you outside of the flat also got Watson and me. I awoke here bound to that chair and disoriented as the drug corrupted my mind. However, if we are in the same room, surely they are together as well."

Sherlock's eyes were half-lidded as he tried to keep up with Holmes.

Holmes finished untying Sherlock's wrists and then moved to his feet. Sherlock examined his burned and bruised wrists; grimacing at them. John would not be pleased. When Holmes untied his feet, he helped Sherlock up to his feet and removed the tie from around his mouth.

"I...I wanted to follow The Doctor....John wanted to tag along. I tried to tell him to stay back, but he's a stubborn fool. We...we...we never made it any farther than the front door before we were attacked."

"Is that all you can recall?"

Sherlock's nose scrunched up as he shook his head.

"No, there's more. I remember waking up, I'm not sure if I was in this room already, that’s not important. I saw people, two men; they were in the process of tying me up. There's a fireplace in here, Holmes, it was lit, the flames illuminating the room with its red and orange glow. Standing in front of the flames was a person, definitely male."

"Did you get to see his face?"

"No, they already administered the drug on me; I could barely make out his figure."

"And that's all you remember?"

Sherlock nodded. Holmes ran a hand through his black hair.

"Well this won't do, not one bit."

"We have to look for them, Holmes. If these people are as dangerous as you say they are."

"I agree. Let us be off now."

Making sure that Sherlock was steady on his feet first, they turned to head over to the door that was barely noticeable with the poor lighting. Sherlock's jacket that held his flashlight was torn off of him while he was struggling. That lamp was the only light source they had. But just before Holmes could touch the knob, the fireplace was suddenly set aflame. Both of the men spun on their heel in the direction of the grand fireplace. Standing in front of it was a man, clearly heading into his middle age, the greying hair and the age spots on his hand was solid evidence.

"Now now, you should know better than to leave without saying goodbye."

The voice told the two that he was from one of the posh areas of London and clearly had good education. His manner of speech and his stance revealed that he was once a professor of some sort. At least, that's what they deduced. Holmes and Sherlock found themselves squinting. The fire was raging; its flames were spouting out of the fireplace and only a mere few feet away from touching the floor and setting the room ablaze. They wondered how the stranger could stand so close to it, but have no risk of getting burned.

"Why should we?" Sherlock replied.

The figure gave a low chuckle. It read sinister with every jump of his shoulders.

"It's called etiquette, and I would assume that you would have basic knowledge of such a thing."

"Says the one who had us kidnapped from out home," Holmes added.

The man's head lifted up so that he was staring at the mantelpiece. How he could see in such darkness, they didn't know. His nose was sharp and long, it could cut you if he decided to turn fast enough. His hands were now folded behind his back, revealing his slight hump from years of slouching. It was hardly recognizable.

"How else would you have me do it? Your flat is simply too small. I like space, Mr. Holmes. Space helps me think."

Holmes seemed unfazed the strange cryptic man standing beside them, staring into the fire as if it was sending him a message of upmost importance.

"Pray tell me sir, what would you need to think about that would involve taking us from our home?  You know who I am, yes?"

A crooked smile crept on the man's lips.

"Of course I do Mr. Holmes, I don't think that there is a single person in London who has not heard, nor read of your exploits."

Holmes gave a smirk.

"I am conflicted you see; it brings me pride, along with a sense of smugness, whenever I hear that someone takes interest in my work and considers coming to me when they are out of their depth, but it also irritates me. Watson has the bad habit of romanticizing my cases, as well as my actions. How he loves his embellishments."

The stranger shook his head.

"That is how you think it, but it is not so, Mr. Holmes. He says exactly what happened as it happened, there is no embellishment, nor is there any hint of romanticizing. There is only the truth, and that is what irritates you. Watson has figured you out and has decided to share it with everybody else."

Sherlock saw Holmes' mouth twitch.

"And what might be your name?"

The creepy smile widened and with a short laugh he said, "The name, Mr. Holmes is James Moriarty, pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Sherlock nearly fainted there. Even Holmes had a reaction to the name.

"Surprised to see me?"

Sherlock swallowed hard and his eyes flickered back to Holmes to see what he would do.

Moriarty turned away from the fire and started walking over to them. His face was haggard and cruel. His mouth had deep lines engraved on the sides. He frowns a lot. His smile was teasing the two as he held a hand to cup his ear.

"Can you hear that? Those are your companions coming to find you."

Sherlock and Holmes listened to see if he was correct.

"Sherlock!"

"Holmes!"

Those voices belonged to Watson and John. They were so close.

"Don't worry; I won't have them spoiling anything, not yet."

"What are you going to do to him?" Sherlock snarled.

"Nothing yet." Moriarty's voice was eerily calm as he spoke. These were the markings of a true sadist.

"But if you try to resist, your friends, they shall suffer."

"How?" Holmes uttered.

The twisted smile sent shivers down their spine.

"Ah, I'll show you, but you must follow me..."


	15. Chapter 15

Holmes and Sherlock looked at each other with thoughtful glances. They were trying to talk to each other through mental voices that only they could hear, and try to devise a way that they would make it out of there alive and unharmed. Moriarty wasn't an idiot, they could plainly see that. Sherlock was slightly appalled that there was even a Moriarty here, but he should have seen it coming. The man standing next to him, clearly older, with hints of grey in his hair was a version of him. They were the same person with the same storylines, and of course, the same villain. And with Moriarty being the spider that he was, he was bound to make an appearance sooner or later.

"Come on, I grow tired of standing here. I have yet to tell you what I intend to do with you, the both of you."

"And what about John and The Doctor?"

"And Watson as well?"

Moriarty smirked.

"They aren't of my concern at the moment, you two are, however."

He sauntered over to the door and then opened it gently, he ushered a hand towards the corridor to signal that they could leave the room. The both of them were walking close together, taking slow and wide steps, wearing calm and collected faces, minds racing to find even the slimmest chance of escape, but coming up with no results. They realized that he anticipated everything that they were going to do, he knew before they even got to his home. He planned all of this. He was looking forward to what he had in store for him.

Proper genius, mixed with proper evil, is what Moriarty was. Sherlock has always thought of him as such, and even while he respected the man for being so dedicated to his career as Consulting Criminal, Sherlock tried his hardest to hide the fear he felt when he confronts Moriarty. It is not only because he is very dangerous psychopath that must be stopped, but there is that underlying feeling that if things were different, he could easily end up like him. In those soulless eyes of his, Sherlock ever saw one thing and one thing only, his reflection. There is a bit of Moriarty in him, and that is what drives Sherlock to stop him. He shall never harm him or John Watson for as long as Sherlock breathes.

Holmes on the other hand, has only just met Moriarty. Surely he sees the corrupt and vile thing that he really is. James Moriarty is no human, he is so much worse than that. But he's interesting and that is the one of the reasons that Sherlock even puts up with him. He understands Sherlock, and that sends shivers down Sherlock's spine.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock snapped his head to his left to see John standing there with Watson, and The Doctor. They looked unharmed, minus the gash on John's head. Sherlock took a mental note to make Moriarty pay now.

"John!"

"Holmes!"

"Watson!"

"Doctor!"

"Sherlock! Holmes!"

John and Watson tried to save their Sherlocks from Moriarty's grasp but The Doctor shouted out, "Wait!"

And immediately they halted. Moriarty's wicked grin only widened at The Doctor's exclamation. The Doctor took his sonic screw driver out of his pocket and waved it around in the air. The only noise in the hall was coming from the tool. The Doctor's face turned grim as he stared at the screwdriver.

"Don't move, don't do anything...."

John's brows furrowed as he retreated with Watson.

"What?!"

"This man is clever, very, very clever. In both of these rooms, the ones that we passed in this corridor have Weeping Angels in them."

"And so what does that mean?"

Moriarty chuckled.

"Why not turn around and see for yourself?"

John spun around to find a Weeping Angel standing right behind The Doctor ready to attack, with its claws out and mouth baring its awful stone fangs to The Doctor's back. The door that held it back was now opened.

"Doctor don't turn around!"

"What, why?"

"You've got one of them, an angel I mean, it's....it's right behind you."

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"Don't blink, John! Whatever you do, do not blink!"

John's eyes were wide and refusing to stare at anything else other than the angel. He nodded frantically. His jaws clenched, as well as his fist. Moriarty would have a storm heading his way. He noticed that Sherlock was sporting a bruise on his cheek; no doubt one of Moriarty's goons hit him for their sadistic pleasure.

"What are you doing Doctor?"

And quietly, without making eye contact with John, he said, "Because there's one behind you as well..."

Immediately, John's heart skipped a beat. Where were they all coming from? From the corner of his eye, he could see Watson locked in his own silent staring contest with the angel that came out of the room adjacent from the one Sherlock and Holmes have been held captive in.

"I can see that you lot are busy, so if you don't mind, these two will come with me."

"No! John!"

"Sherlock!"

Moriarty grabbed Sherlock roughly by the wounded wrist and yanked him away from the situation in the hallway.

"Don't fight me, I told you what would happen if you fought me, didn't I?"

His tone was menacing and harsh, the sharp and educated dialect he used made him sound all the more threatening. Sherlock could've taken him down easily by now, and Moriarty knew that. This is exactly why he used John and Watson as bait for both Sherlocks. They were their pressure points. Or as Jim Moriarty would phrase it, "I'll burn the heart out of you..."

Sherlock remained silent, biting his cheek to prevent any smart remark from leaving his mouth. He hated feeling helpless, more so when John was in the vicinity. He could only imagine how Holmes was feeling. He shot a quick look and saw Holmes's eyes fixated on Watson, who was too preoccupied at the moment to acknowledge his staring. Sherlock knew, he loved Watson just the same, and inside of him, there was a mixture of anger, passion, determination, and of frustration for not being able to help Watson, and to think that Moriarty was getting off on this, sick, vile man.

He had both men by the wrists and gave them yanks, as if he were commandeering a dog sled.

"Come now, let us be off, yes? I am so very eager to show you what comes next. We're going to solve the Final Problem you see."

Holmes swallowed hard and restricted his volume and tone of voice very carefully. He was having trouble doing that much.

"And what might that be?"

Moriarty gripped him tighter.

"You're a genius as well Mr. Holmes. Piece it together, I know you can."

Holmes's eyes narrowed as he listened to Moriarty's words. His lip twitched, but he gave no response. Sherlock didn't either.

"Say goodbye to your companions, this will be the last time you shall ever lay your eyes on them again. This goes for both sides, that is, if they all blink first."

Moriarty spun them around and then began walking the opposite way, leaving John shouting Sherlock's name as if that could change the blunder that they were in. Pretty soon, Sherlock, Holmes, and Moriarty were out of their view.

John never felt so much anger as he did in that moment. This angel was beginning to be the least of his problems at the moment.

"Doctor, whatever shall we do about this?" Watson inquired in his ever so gentlemanly way.

The Doctor thought, and he thought quickly because there wasn't much time to spare. They couldn't keep their eyes open for much longer, and if any of them were to blink, they would be sent to a different time and would never be able to return again.

"Alright, alright, alright!" The Doctor shouted. He was just as scared and angry as John and Watson were. Watson was doing the best at concealing his emotion for the moment.

"There are ways to defeat a Weeping Angel. They feed on time energy so for there to be this many of them, they must have hit the jackpot."

"Just tell us!"

"We could make a paradox in time and trap them all in there, but I don't have my TARDIS with me, so that plan goes into the trash."

"Right now what's the other one?" John said.

"We could send them through a crack, a crack in the universe, and trap them there! Do you see any cracks?"

"I scarcely think that there would be a crack of any kind in a house so immaculate as this, Doctor." Watson added. The beads of sweat were rolling off of his face.

"There's only one other way...Everybody get in a circle, and when I say turn, you turn!"

"What?!" The Watsons yelled.

"ONE, TWO, THREE, TURN!"

They all changed directions so that, with the exception of Watson, were staring at the angels directly in front of them.

"Doctor, hurry!"

"Alright, okay, good, this is very good! Now we have to lure on more out!"

"You must be joking!" John shouted.

"I wish I was, John, I wish I was!"

"So then what would you have of us?"

"Since there are already two angels facing each other, all John and I have to do is duck! Think you can handle it?"

"I should hope so, Doctor."

"Alright, here we go! DUCK!"

And the both of them crouched to the floor, letting the two angels make eye contact with each other and being stuck in their place. Watson however had to continue staring at his immobile attacker. John followed The Doctor's lead by crawling from in between the two angels. Once they were behind them, The Doctor ran to the last door of the corridor.

"How much do you trust me, Watson?"

Watson's eyes were bulging and wild.

"I trust you enough to get me out of this alive!"

"That's good enough for me!"

"Now what must I do?!"

The Doctor's hand was resting on the doorknob as he spoke.

"What you need to do is move out of the way of the angel's eyesight, slowly, fot God's sake slowly! You're going to bring it over here so that I can open this door and have them make eye contact!"

"Why not just use your glowing accessory?"

The Doctor laughed.

"While it may be good from a lot of stuff, opening wooden doors is not one of them. This is also one of the reasons I prefer to be in the future and not the past!"

"This isn't the time for small-talk, Doctor, Sherlock is in danger!" John called out.

"Right then, of you go, Watson!"

John and The Doctor were standing behind the door's opening direction and watched with careful and uneasy eyes as Watson squirmed his way out of the angel's deathly sight. As he was backing up, he would blink, once he was far enough to not get attacked. With each blink, his heart rate rose, and she got closer. He finally got to the desired door and turned to face the wall. In between him was just enough space to get the angel in front of him without being touched, and enough room to get away from her when the door was opened.

"Do it, Doctor! My eyes grow sore and weary from all of this staring; end it now so that we may find Holmes!"

The Doctor swung the door open and it revealed another Weeping Angel inside who was instantly locked in a staring contest with the other. John immediately hit the floor and managed to get out of their line of sight. Just like that, The Doctor closed the door and the three of them examined what just happened.

"The reason they have their eyes covered is so they don't make eye contact with each other. If they do, they end up staring at each other for all eternity, not being able to do a single thing about it."

"So what, that's it?"

"They may be ruthless monsters, but there is a way to beat everything, John. Besides, when they aren't trying to throw you into a different time period, they are just statues, and nothing more."

John stared for a little while longer before storming around the statues and marching down the hall. When he saw that the others weren't following him, he spun on his heel and tried to speak to them as calmly as he could, which was barely.

"What's the matter? Turned into a statue too? We have to save Sherlock and Holmes; you don't understand how dangerous Moriarty is."

"We understand that he is a serious threat to Sherlock and Holmes's..." The Doctor began, but was quickly cut off by John.

"Let me tell you a few things about Moriarty. This is the same man, albeit a different version of him, that forced Sherlock, my Sherlock, to jump off the roof of a hospital and commit suicide. This is the same man who almost blew me up when we first met and who almost had Sherlock think that I was him. This is the same man who spent two months tarnishing Sherlock for who he is and what he does, and then proceeded to pose as an actor who was simply doing Sherlock's bidding."

John stepped a bit closer.

"And the worst part is, I had to watch that. I had to endure all of that with him. I had to watch people treat him even worse than usual, see people look at him with scorn in their eyes because they had the thought that he was a fraud, and nobody to be respected. I stood by him when things went to absolute shit, I admit, for a brief moment I had a few doubts about him, but that soon went out of my head. I had to watch him on that rooftop with his phone in his hand, looking down at me. I had to have what I thought was going to be my last conversation with him ever, pleading with him to come down, begging him that we could get through it together. I...watched....as he jumped and I saw his "dead" body lying on the ground, covered in blood. I had to attend his funeral, I sat back and watched as the world around me came crashing down, because without Sherlock Holmes, there is no John Watson. Two years, two bloody awful years spent wishing for him to return, in denial that he wasn't dead and that it was all just an awful dream that I've yet to wake up from. All because of that...man...Moriarty! So you tell me, do you understand the importance of bringing him down now?"

Without a word, Watson immediately joined John at his side and gave a small smile.

"Doctor? What say you?"

The Doctor made his way over to the two with a smirk on his face.

"I think we go ahead and save Sherlock and Holmes."


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock and Holmes walked with Moriarty for what seemed like an eternity before they had actually gotten where they needed to. Their faces were stoic, and never did they utter a word or a sound. They couldn't attack him, not while John and Watson were stuck out there with those angels. They would be okay, they had to be okay. Surely Moriarty isn't dumb enough to kill them. If he did, he would have to suffer the wrath of Sherlock and Holmes, and it wouldn't be pretty.

“Right this way, gentlemen.”

“Might I inquire where we are going?” Holmes asked in his cordial tone.

“That is for me to know and for you to find out, Mr. Holmes.”

“This is all horribly cliché, Moriarty.” Sherlock blurted out.

“It may be, and it may not be. What matter is it if it is cliché? If you try to fight me, I’ll make sure Watson and John find their way to their graves.”

At the threat of John’s life, Sherlock shut up and continued walking. When they reached their destination (another dark room) Moriarty released them from his grip which was surprisingly strong for an older man.

“Here we are.”

“It doesn’t look like much.” Sherlock said.

“Surely you have something more elaborate and sinister, yes?” Holmes asked.

“You two are big on appearances, aren’t you, very shallow indeed.”

Both Sherlocks rolled their eyes.

“We just thought that you would have something more, I don’t know, stylish, since you’re such a psychopathic genius.” Sherlock sarcastically retorted.

Moriarty’s crooked grin spread across his face.

“I hardly think anybody is going to care about the room’s decor once they find your bodies lying in it.”

Holmes’s brows rose.

“So you intend to kill us? I thought we would get to know one another first, Mr. Moriarty. It hardly seems professional that you wouldn’t care to understand your archenemy better.”

“I know enough about the both of you, actually, pretty troubling things as well.”

Holmes and Sherlock’s eyes darted to each other.

“Do we want to know?”

Moriarty shrugged.

“If you wish it, but for now, let’s save it and get on with our schedule.”

Their brows rose.

“And what exactly do we have planned for today?”  Holmes said.

Moriarty’s smile slowly downgraded into a smirk, it was a smirk that was full of evil and wickedness as he began to think about what he might do to them. He sauntered over to a table and then moved as if he was picking something up. Whatever it was, they couldn’t see. All they noticed was that the lighting in the room was better. Moriarty had his hands folded behind his back as he made his way back over to the two detectives.

“I’ve always watched you from time to time, Mr. Holmes.”

“I should think myself flattered?”

“If I was in your place I would. I’ve a special place in my heart for you, Holmes.”

Sherlock looked at Holmes, curious as to what he does next.

“Is that so?”

“It is. You see, I’ve never met another like myself, Holmes.”

“The world is short a few pysch0paths, someone inform the heavens.”

Moriarty’s grin turned sour.

“I was without the proper source of entertainment, nothing to arouse my excitement. But then you turned up, and I knew deep down in my core, you were the one.”

“I’m terribly sorry, your obsession is misplaced, go and seek out another genius for your sadistic sport.”

That got Moriarty to laugh.

“But there isn’t another genius, have you not figured it out? There is only you and me, Mr. Holmes. It’s very much like a game of cat and mouse you see.”

Holmes’s face read distaste and a hint of enjoyment, but his disgust overwhelmed everything else.

“And what does that make me, the cat or the mouse?”

Moriarty shrugged.

“It does not matter which animal I have designated you as. All that matters is who triumphs, and wins. I could be the cat, and ensnare you in my claws, you little puny thing, or I could be the mouse, and have you chase me all over London until you get distracted or lose me and then I remain unseen. Of course, there are some cases where the cat ends up in a pool of its own blood, while the mouse scurries away joyous over its victory and off to begin the cycle anew.”

“Are you claiming to be better than me, Mr. Moriarty?”

“Ah! Does it bother you? Does it gnaw at your very soul knowing that there is another like you? While geniuses are rare, they do exist. But I don’t have to prove myself to you, Holmes, a game of chess or solving mathematic problems won’t do much to show you that I am better than you. While you are a highly intelligent man or men as your case seems to be, I am proper genius.”

“Careful Holmes,” Sherlock interrupted, “This man is very dangerous.”

“And you would know, wouldn’t you, Sherlock? You have dealt with me before, yes?”

“You were crazier the first time around, Moriarty.” Sherlock snarled.

“It brings me pleasure to hear such things. I am glad that I can be even smarter than I am now.”

Walking over to Sherlock first, he stood behind him.

“Now, I’m going to slide something into your hands, and you mustn’t peek until I say, do you understand?”

Sherlock was reluctant at first, but he responded and felt the hot breath of the older man on his neck. It smelled of brandy and faintly of cigarettes. He didn’t take Moriarty for a smoker.

“Good boy.”

Sherlock felt something cold and hard fall into his grasp. He rubbed his fingers against it and once he discovered what it was, he closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh.

“Now now, it isn’t fair if you give away hints, now is it?”

Holmes watched with careful and thoughtful eyes as Moriarty smirked and stalked over to him with his hands still folded behind his back. He found the man behind him just the same as Sherlock, and felt an object being forced into his hand. He had half a mind to drop it, but that was before he deduced what it was.

“Well done Moriarty,” He began, “You’re so much more dastardly than I expected you to be. Very good show.”

Sherlock found himself giving a ghost of a smirk as well as he listened to Holmes speak.

“This is new indeed.”

Moriarty acted like a blushing schoolgirl as they falsely praised him. He was getting off on this. Standing in between the two, he began to speak.

“One the count of three, you shall unveil the item I have entrusted you with into your hands.”

There was silence.

“Let us begin! One...Two...Three...”

They both whipped their right hand around to find that they were both pointing a revolver at each other. They tried to hide their face from Moriarty but they both saw the look in each others’ eyes. . Their fingers were being forced by an unknown power to the triggers, no matter how much they fought it. It was inevitable.

“I’ve told the both of you that I wanted to solve the Final Problem, yes? This is how I devised it in my head.”

They both had eyes fixed on each other as Moriarty spoke.

“You see, I could kill you two, easily. I could have shot you already, seeing as how I have two revolvers in my possession, I could leave you to the angels, but they would have given you a mercy killing, and let you die with your Johns. That’s not what I had in mind. So then, I thought that I might throw you off of a roof, but Sherlock’s decided that he would want to try it already, and if I had done it now, it would hardly seem original. But at the last moment, I come up with this. You two are to shoot each other. You both try to defeat me, but I already have each of you in my grasp, and I’ll only allow one of you to return to your John. The only way that you would escape is by killing the other, however.”

“And what if we choose to not shoot the other?” Sherlock asked.

“Simple, you’ll both die, and if your companion managed to survive the angels, then they shall die too.”

“And if we both manage to shoot and kill you?” Holmes interjected.

“You could if you so desired to, and I can see by the looks on your faces, that’s your plan. But I have more of the angels stored here, and they seem to enjoy feeding off of my time energy, I would imagine that it is in your best wishes to not upset them, right?”

“Why not just kill us both? Why only have one of us die?”

Moriarty’s smirk widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it just as quickly. His head snapped towards the door and his smile could almost touch his ears.

“But I do believe it would be better if all of you were to be in attendance.”

Before any of them could reply, The Doctor, John, and Watson came running into the room. They found them even quicker this time.

“Thank heavens we’ve found you!” Watson exclaimed.

John’s face was washed with rage as he saw the sight in front of him.

“What’s going on here?!”

Moriarty’s hand joined together in a slow, menacing clap.

“Well done, though, if I may say so myself, Doctor, you cheated.”

The Doctor’s face sported a frown and his voice was lower as he walked over to Moriarty.

“Is this a game? I wasn’t aware that we were playing games now.”

“But we aren’t, can’t say that it wouldn’t have been more entertaining to see you lot scurrying about like the tiny little mice that you are.”

“Explain yourself, now.” The Doctor threatened.

With a sigh, Moriarty began to talk.

“Very well.”

“Go on.” John growled.

“Where shall I begin? Maybe the day I found your time-machine, Doctor?”

All the people in the room’s mouths dropped, The Doctor’s included.

“How?”

“The day you showed up, actually. My man, I fed him to the angels some time ago, was chasing our dear friends Holmes and Watson down the winding streets of London. He was stopped and ran face first into your blue box. He says that it was like magic, your box, there was no way he could have not noticed it during his pursuit. He hid behind it, and watched as Holmes collided with Sherlock, and the rest of the scene that played out.

He was a smart one, I admit I forget his name, but he was only but one out of the hundreds of faces that I see every day, I only needed him for my personal benefit. You see, it was him who ran back here to inform me of the mysterious box, you should have heard him, Doctor, never seen the lad’s mouth move at such an alarming rate before! I was intrigued; such a thing is hard to make up when you have an average mind such as his. He was only considered slightly above by me because he made sure to tell me every detail of every person that I wished.

Wanting to see this “magical box”, I proposed that he take me to it when there was not a soul in the streets, so that I may form my own opinion on the matter. Naturally, he agreed.

When I first laid eyes upon it, I was sure that it was simply my overactive imagination projecting the boy’s words into a realistic representation. I struck him, and told him to never lie to me again, but he insisted that I touch it, Doctor; he insisted that I lay but only a finger on the object to understand that it was not false, but in fact true. I wanted to believe him, you see, I wanted it to be real, as I can never be wrong nor can I ever be tricked by a lesser-mind. I walked up to what looked like the door, and gently applied my pointer finger to it and pressed on it. To my surprise, it was opened.”

“Do you mean to tell us that you never locked the doors, Doctor?” Sherlock asked with a bit of annoyance and scolding. The Doctor looked offended at the question.

“Well how was I supposed to know the door was open? I was too busy making sure that Holmes didn’t turn your brain into mush!”

“That is no excuse!”

“As I was saying,” Moriarty interrupted, “The door swung open to reveal things that I could never hope to think of in my mind. So much technology, things that are not even close to being thought of here! I’m sure you hear this a lot, Doctor, but it is bigger on the inside.”

The Doctor shrugged.

“While my mind began to process all of the information I was soaking in, the doors slammed shut and I found myself unable to get out. The next thing I know, I’m watching Sherlock’s life, his childhood, his adolescent years, and his adulthood, which is where he meets me.”

Moriarty was proud of that statement. John’s jaw clenched and Sherlock snorted.

“Of course I watched through the magic mirror, I watched as Sherlock was belittled and scorned and hated by all. How lonely your childhood was, Sherlock.”

Moriarty’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he was reminded of the harsh memories that are associated with his earlier years.

“I watched myself spend every waking moment to bring you down. Subtlety is vital. He was never in the frontlines, he hid in plain sight. Acted normally, a passing face on the side of the street, and you never realized until it was too late.

I saw him and you on that rooftop, talking, speaking words that did not matter to me. I saw you jump. I was intrigued and fully invested, watching with precision at how much I impacted your life, even as a different person in a different world. My pride has soared to new heights indeed.”

“Get to the angels!” Sherlock shouted.

“Ah! Those merciful statues, such a beautiful way to die, don’t you think? You think your dead, you wish to be deceased, but you instead find yourself in a field unknown to you. You could be anywhere, you’re not certain. Heaven, Hell, wherever. You feel dead, but you’re not dead.  You’re in a time distant from your own, alone, and scared. You want to go home, you want to be alive again, but you can’t, and you’re not. Instead you find yourself growing weaker, watching as the wrinkles of age come to your face, not knowing that you’re food to the murderers that put you there. You grow old and die, isolated, helpless. What poetic creatures, the angels are. Don’t you think?”

“How did you come across them?” The Doctor questioned.

“They came to me. They found me, the time energy that my adventure of curiosity, made its way to their senses, and drove them to me.”

“Why didn’t they kill you?” Holmes inquired.

“Simple, I led them to the primary source of their feast. They hunger; they want to satiate their empty souls. They want you.

And now they shall have you. All it takes is for one of you to die, the time-lines will alter, and one of them shall be deleted from all time and history. The energy from said universe shall seep through all space and time, and the angels shall have a feast for many eons to come. And I get to feel the satisfaction of killing you, Holmes. For you are one and the same. I’ll admit, it will get rather dull without your presence, for a better past-time, I shall never find again.”

“Doctor, quick, draw your weapon!” Watson boomed.

The Doctor fumbled around with his screwdriver until it made its familiar whirring noise.

“Just for the record, it is NOT a weapon!”

He waved it in the air and as soon as both Sherlocks pulled the trigger, nothing came from the guns. Moriarty looked alarmed and quite scared.

“What is this?! Explain yourself, NOW!”

The Doctor gave a smug smile and tossed his sonic in the air as he caught it before it hit the ground.

“My trusty screwdriver here jammed their weapons.”

Moriarty’s dull eyes widened.

“How...? What sort of witchcraft is this?”

“This isn’t witchcraft, no, not at all. This is a sonic screwdriver.”

He activated it again and held it over his head. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but in the blink of an eye, Moriarty was surrounded by Weeping Angels. The terror and agony took over the calm and collected man; he tried to get away but to no avail.

“NO, STOP THIS AT ONCE! WE HAD A DEAL! JUST KILL THEM AND BE DONE WITH THIS! NO!”

“EVERYBODY, CLOSE YOUR EYES!” The Doctor screamed over Moriarty’s panicked cries.

Sherlock and Holmes threw their guns down and clamped hands over their eyes. John ran over to Sherlock, as Watson did Holmes and joined them as they shielded their eyes. Sherlock felt John’s tight embrace as they heard the screams that came from Moriarty. The Doctor sank to the floor and shut his eyes tightly. They all tried to tune out the madman’s screams of cowardice and mercy. They heard a loud noise and what sounded like cracking of cement or a wall.

Just as quickly as the commotion started, it all disappeared, as if they thought up the whole scenario. And it was Sherlock first, who opened his eyes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a two-part finale! I'm sorry for the late update, busy weekend.


	17. Chapter 17

Sherlock smiled at his reflection in the clear mirror. The sunlight shone through the sheer curtains, giving him a beautiful and shimmering glow. His eyes seemed brighter, they couldn't decide on a color so he was forced to walk around with blue-green eyes for the day. He didn't mind one bit. His hair seemed to be shades lighter than usual. It was browner, and didn't look as black as everyone thought it was. He added a few more curls, just for the hell of it. John loved his curly hair, so that meant that Sherlock loved his curly hair. But as he was making the final adjustments, he let his mind wander to the events that took place before.

 

_Sherlock was the first to open his eyes when the silence fell. The room was empty, save for everyone else being in there with him. Moriarty was gone, the angels were gone, and all that remained was them. Slowly but surely, the others began to unveil their eyes. They reminded him of the immobile monsters that did the same. John unraveled himself from his tight grasp on Sherlock to observe his surroundings. He too found himself in a barren room. Holmes was the next person, then Watson followed after. The only person that still had their eyes covered was The Doctor._

_"I said keep your eyes close! Don't open them for anything, anything at all!"_

_The four men gave each other puzzled glances at The Doctor's words. Did he think that they were still in trouble? Does he not hear the deafening silence that engulfed them? Did he not feel the air of tension and danger leave?_

_Sherlock was the one to make his way over to his troubled friend._

_"Doctor, Doctor! The angels are gone, and Moriarty with them!"_

_The Doctor stopped his yelling when he heard Sherlock's voice. He began to take in those words, and removed his hands from his eyes. He looked around, searching for the slightest hint of danger, and when he found none, he snapped his head back with the widest of grins on his face._

_"We did it?!"_

_Holmes gave a short smile._

_"It would seem so, Doctor."_

_The Doctor bounced around like an excited puppy when he was informed of their triumph. But as soon as that burst of energy entered him, it seemed to leave just as quickly._

_"But where did they go? Did anybody see?"_

_"Sorry but didn't you tell us to shut our eyes?" John asked with the confusion everybody had._

_"Yes, yes I did. But I didn't see where they went."_

_"Well wherever they went, they took Moriarty with them." Sherlock answered._

_Without saying a word, The Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver in the air and then brought it back down to his face._

_"No, no, he's still here, well, in a sense."_

_"Care to elaborate?" Watson said._

_"The angels, they took him, much like they take everybody else. He made a deal with them, let them feed off of your time-energy, and he gets to kill you. But he didn't fill his end of the bargain you see, so they fed off of his energy. He's been sent to a paradox, that's one version of him however, but here, his whole timeline has been reset. He'll never remember any of this, not a thing."_

_"So you mean to say that he'll have never found your time machine, and have seen Sherlock's life. All of that is to be ripped from his memory?"_

_"If I'm correct."_

_"And what if you aren't?"_

_"Then you get to live your life without the fear of Moriarty."_

_"And that will not alter our timeline even in the slightest?"_

_"Oh yes, drastically. But if you were to ask Sherlock, I'm sure you could do without him."_

_Holmes held his hand up to stop The Doctor from talking any more._

_"I need not know the dangers we face if Moriarty is to return. John's passion-filled speech is more than enough knowledge."_

_Sherlock chuckled weakly, "That's my John, always the romantic."_

_Watson smiled warmly._

_"I shall never tire of seeing you two showing such affection for each other. Cupid's shot was lucky indeed."_

_The two men smiled with unspoken appreciation for their support. They could have chosen to be bitter about it, they could have chosen to hate Sherlock and John because they get the one thing that Holmes and Watson could never have. The bounds of society were heavy and tiresome, and it left the person tied with them hopeless and depressed._

_Holmes linked his arm with Watson's and gave the most genuine smile to his treasured companion. The Doctor was practically choked with all the heaviness of the love stemming from the four men, and had to get their attention so that they could leave._

_"Well now, off we go, I want to show our pals Holmes and Watson something extraordinary."_

_The two men raised their eyebrows in intrigue and followed after The Doctor. (italics)_

 

Sherlock was laughing to himself as he remembered their reactions to stepping inside of the TARDIS. He remembered having the same reaction, but he was only a child, and it was his duty to be overly-excited about everything because excitement is a fleeting thing. People tend to expect everything now, and any surprise is unpleasant, so therefore, people choose to keep their excitement locked away. Not a child, a child could do whatever they wanted, make all the mistakes they wanted, laugh and cry at whatever they wanted to. They could do that because they were naive, they had no knowledge of the world they lived in. Sherlock had to learn that the hard way.

He can still see Holmes and Watson stepping inside of the TARDIS, Holmes captivated by the scientific beauty of it all, and Watson nervous and stuck in his Victorian ways of thinking. In his period, it was unbecoming to think of such wild things such as the TARDIS, but Holmes didn't care a fig for any of the rules the world has set in motion, and that's what draws Watson to him. Holmes was absolutely marvelous in his eyes. He was everything that Watson wasn't, and he loved it, even though he was a bit envious.

 

_"Here we are! The Tardis!" The Doctor exclaimed._

_They weren't inside of it, but they were standing in front as The Doctor unveiled it properly this time. Sherlock and John were standing there, watching Holmes and Watson with quiet amusement as they stared at The Doctor like he was some sort of loon shouting about the end of the world._

_"It is only a box, how can you possibly travel anywhere in such a tight space? Look at the size!" Holmes complained._

_"I agree with Holmes, Doctor, what is so special about this?"_

_Sherlock and John's mouths twisted awkwardly as they tried to hide their grins. The Doctor caught them, and his mouth soon spread into a grin itself._

_"You out of all people, Mr. Holmes, out of everybody else, I am shocked that you would dismiss my TARDIS as something insignificant."_

_"Prove me wrong then, show me all the splendors that this hunk of wood holds. Show me the universe!"_

_The Doctor turned his back to the duo and pulled out his key._

_"I thought you would never ask."_

_With a jerk of his wrist, the door popped open. Sherlock and John were anxiously awaiting the big reveal, even though they have already had the opportunity already. The Doctor gently pushed the door open and entered, Sherlock and John followed after. It was Holmes and Watson that were still standing there, unsure of what they have gotten themselves into. Sherlock popped his head back out at the pair._

_"Come on, don't look so scared, it's not a good look on you."_

_Holmes smirked and then unlinked his arm from Watson's as he took small, careful steps towards the door. He looked behind to see Watson standing right next to him, he followed Holmes. Steeling himself, Holmes walked inside and felt his heart stop momentarily at the sight. Watson paled and the others thought that he would need to take a seat, but he was strong, and recovered quickly._

_"My word..." Watson breathed._

_"It's...bigger on the inside." Holmes added._

_The Doctor shrugged._

_"I get that a lot."_

_While Watson was frozen in his place, Holmes waltzed about the TARDIS, captivated by the many buttons and levers and lights. He was used to the plain wooden surfaces of tables with the occasional tea-stain, and dim-lit lonely rooms, not all of this splendor and beauty. Sherlock and John watched fondly as the other men explored the wonder that is the TARDIS._

_"Gentlemen, welcome to the TARDIS. She can take you anywhere in space and time, you can witness anything your gigantic head can think of. Sure there are the times where she might mess up and take you somewhere else, but it's an adventure anyway. This is what dreams are made of; this is what the future is. I am The Doctor, and this is my ship and as the owner I ask you, where would you like to go?"_

_Sherlock and John felt a twinge of happiness and excitement at the sight of Holmes and Watson's faces._

_"Well Holmes and I decided, and have discussed this many times since meeting you lot, and I think that we would love nothing more than to see one thing."_

Interrupting Sherlock from his thoughts, there was knocking on the door.

"It's open!"

The door opened to reveal Greg. He was dressed in one of his finest tuxedos, Mycroft came in after him. Sherlock smirked.

"I suppose that you are in here to tell me that we are ready to begin, yes?"

Greg gave a half-smile. No doubt this was because of the special event that was about to take place. Mycroft looked indifferent, but he was proud of his little brother. And he was happy with the choice of partner, but he would never say that to Sherlock's face.

"It would be best to not keep them waiting, dear brother; you know how crowds get when things are behind schedule."

"I'm well aware, thank you."

Mycroft grimaced.

"Shall we get a move on then?"

Sherlock was in too good a mood to let Mycroft get to him. With a louder laugh, he turned around to face his brother.

"I'll be out in a moment, Mycroft; you may take your places while you wait. Keep the crowd entertained for a moment longer."

Mycroft gave him a curt nod and grabbed Greg's sleeve a tug as he moved to leave the room. Sherlock let his mind wander for a bit longer before turning back to the mirror to get another look at himself. Showing a bit of teeth in his ecstatic smile, he whispered, "Here we go."

And stood up and left the room.


	18. Chapter 18

The chapel was big, Sherlock and John deliberated on the size of their wedding location. John wanted it to be traditional, whereas Sherlock just wanted something private and intimate. John just gave him a cheeky smile because he knew that Sherlock was never comfortable around large crowds, or just people in general, let alone something as personal as a wedding. John made sure that he told Sherlock that they would only invite people they knew, close friends and family, most of them being John’s friends; Sherlock’s amount of friends were in pale comparison to John’s. They didn’t care how many friends they had, all that mattered was them. They were each other’s best friend.

It was unusually bright outside, and the weather conditions were perfect for a wedding, there were no dark clouds to ruin the perfectly lit sky, no random drops of rain, signaling that soon, there was to be a shower, the sun was out and shining as brightly as before, making each color it shone on that much more vivid and happy. It seems that today, just this once, nature would patiently wait just for Sherlock and John’s wedding.

The chapel was illuminated with radiant shades of yellow; it contrasted perfectly with the once dull room. The audience sat in their respectful seats, whispering their thoughts on the upcoming ceremony, or weeping silent tears because they could not control their emotions at such a joyous occasion. Collectively, they sounded like a hive of bees at work, buzzing so loudly that to an outsider it would sound like nothing more than murmurs of incoherent words and inaudible whimpers. These people were here for Sherlock and John, albeit there were a few late guests, but they were very welcomed.

John stood at the altar waiting for his brilliant groom. He could almost see him now, waltzing down the aisle with his arm draped over his older brother’s, striding with the cat-like grace and agility he has always possessed. He would glance over at Mycroft’s face and see the stoic expression that his brother wore. John knew that Mycroft was happier than he was letting on, but there was still that fear lingering inside him. The paranoia of his little brother’s life partner leaving him for someone better, or because they weren’t as in love as they thought they were. He has told Mycroft time and time again that he would never do that to Sherlock. He’s waited so long for this, and wanted it so bad, and to have this chance now and ruin it later on would surely send him to his grave years earlier than expected.

Lestrade was standing beside John, he was fiddling with his tie that Mrs. Hudson helped him put on. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to tie it; it was because of the reason why he was wearing one. Sherlock was getting married, SHERLOCK HOLMES was getting married. The man he knew for five plus years was getting married to his chosen mate, his partner, his colleague that has lived with him for so long. If Greg were to think back to the first time he’s clapped eyes on Sherlock, he would’ve said that he would end up dead in a ditch from an overdose within the next month, but he’s been proven so wrong, and he was so proud of that. He was asked to be best man because he was the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock had, and they trusted him, possibly even considered him family. The reason why was of unimportance, he was glad that he was even asked for such a vital role.

It seemed like ages before John heard the shushing and hushes of the people in the crowd, and saw the remaining attendees standing up taking their seats. This was the moment he was waiting for, the moment they were all waiting for. Sherlock was coming. This was really happening. Trying his best to give the most arousing and excited stance and push away his worries and doubts, he stood up straight, like a soldier awaiting their captain’s orders. Though he was his own captain now, and his orders for Sherlock are his vows. The elderly woman took her spot at the organ and assumed the pose that she has no doubt had to sit in for years. She looked decrepit, and could keel over and die any minute. Hopefully, she could hang on, there’s no need to turn a wedding into a funeral, or a case, if Sherlock were to speak on the subject.

He hated the music, the awful, loud, ancient sounds of the organ as it played the timeless song that every wedding had. John wished that he had told her to play something different, something that wasn’t overused, but then again, he doubted that she knew any other song than the one she was playing at the moment. His eyes wandered back over to the aisle and his smile grew tenfold. There was Sherlock, and just like he had pictured, arm in arm with his older brother. John was spot-on with the solemn, almost melancholic face, he could relate, Harry was wearing the same one as well. To the two siblings, it felt as if they were losing their brothers to the bonds of matrimony, coming to terms with the fact that they were no longer children who needed constant care and affection, or to be cleaned up after, because, not only did Sherlock and John have each other for that, they were also grown men and have learned how to do all those things on their own. Sherlock still needed a bit of help on some of them. John wondered what it looked like to the two older siblings. Were Sherlock and John still the same that they were as children? Were they still the children, the babies that they’ve always viewed them as? Did they look like two five year olds dressed in tuxedos twice as big as their small bodies? How much are they hurting inside, how much were they dreading this day that they knew was going to happen sometime in their lives? Didn’t they know that everything was going to be okay in the end?

Sherlock seemed to not notice any of this; his eyes were trained on John’s. If Sherlock’s eyes were a sniper rifle and John his target, he would be lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The soft pink lips were trying their hardest to not bust out into a mad grin. Sherlock was beaming with excitement and passion, with a cloud of warmth surrounding his very aura and smothering John with it. Sherlock picked the tuxedos, he was very adamant about their physical appearance during the big day. John could spend the whole day thinking about how many shops he was dragged into to be fitted for the perfect tuxedo. It didn’t matter to him, what he wore, but it made him feel fuzzy inside as he watched Sherlock scurry about the day trying to perfect their wedding and plan everything accordingly. In the end, Sherlock was happy, and that’s all that John needed.

Just as quickly as the song began, it ended, and John couldn’t help but feel relief at the fact. Mycroft let go of Sherlock’s arm and watched as he stood in front of John with a gentle smile spread across his lips. John couldn’t help but glance at Mycroft. He could have been hallucinating but he could swear that he saw tears pooling in the brother’s eyes at the action of letting Sherlock go. It was then John realized that Mycroft knew that Sherlock wouldn’t need him anymore, didn’t need him to hold his hand and guide him through the busy streets of London and Life, and that he didn’t need a babysitter or a nanny anymore. He realized that Sherlock was no longer the little boy with the bumblebee pyjamas on, staring at his elder brother with those wide blue eyes eagerly awaiting the new bit of information that he was going to give him. No more were the days were Sherlock played Pirates in the backyard with him, or sat on his lap as Mycroft read a book aloud to him. Gone were the times where Sherlock snuck into his bedroom because he couldn’t sleep, had him patch up his wounds, or followed him around like a puppy, worshipping the ground Mycroft stepped on. He saw it now, the grown man with years of pain and hurt inside of him, finally finding the one person that could make him happy and fall in love with. Sherlock wasn’t the little boy with the mussed up curls, or missing teeth. Sherlock was a grown man, and this was him giving him away to the new man in Sherlock’s life, John Watson.

With the soft smile of silent defeat and the cloaked emotion of jubilation, Mycroft gave John a pat on the shoulder, a gentle pat, John could barely feel it, and then giving his little brother a compassionate hug before making his way over to Greg. John’s smile faded for a brief minute, but returned again at the sight of his Sherlock, showing as much sentiment as he pleased without feeling any shame or regret for it. John found his hands automatically connected with Sherlock’s, and gave them a light squeeze as they shared one more look before turning to face the vicar.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sign of God – and in the face of this company – to join together these men in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

The only thing close to sounding like an objection was Mrs. Hudson’s muffled sobs at the sight of her “boys” finally getting married. Mycroft’s lip trembled, and Harry gave a defeated sigh at the comment. Not hearing anybody’s disagreement to their marriage, the vicar continued on.

“Marriage is the union of husbands in heart, body and mind. It is intended for their mutual joy – and for the help and comfort given on another in prosperity and adversity. But more importantly – it is a means through which a stable and loving environment may be attained.”

Sherlock and John shared a mental laugh at the slight change in dialogue. It is supposed to be “husband and wife” but this wasn’t the case.

“Through marriage, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson make a commitment together to face their disappointments – embrace their dreams – realize their hopes – and accept each other’s failures. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson will promise one another to aspire to these ideals throughout their lives together – through mutual understanding – openness – and sensitivity to each other. “

John gave Sherlock a stare full of the mutual love that they felt for one another. Sherlock was waiting for this to be over; he was getting a bit antsy.

“We are here today – before God – because marriage is one of His most sacred wishes – to witness the joining in marriage of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. This occasion marks the celebration of love and commitment with which---“

“Yes we know, marriage, sacred, holy, can we…I don’t know, skip past all of this?”

There were a few chuckles in the room.

The minister was flabbergasted at the blatant interruption made by Sherlock, one of the grooms himself!

“I…what would you prefer we do then?”

“I’m sure John has vows written down, just as I do. If it’s alright with you I would like to hear them now.”

The laughs grew louder and Sherlock’s cheeks flushed red at his impatience to hear John’s vows. John laughed with them and turned to the vicar.

“Can I read now?”

The vicar folded his hands over his book and waved one in front of John.

“Do as you wish, it is your wedding.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Taking a deep breath and clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to begin reciting his vows to Sherlock.

“…Sherlock…”

“Yes, John?”

Sherlock asked that with the tone of a youth who has just found their first true love. John continued.

“You know I find it difficult, this sort of stuff…”

Sherlock nodded with agreement.

“I’ve never been the one to shout my love for another on a rooftop, or walk about telling everyone who I fancy at the moment. I’m not the guy who can walk around with his heart on his sleeve, or express how I’m feeling at the time, and if I try to, I get angry, and then there’s a whole other mess for me.”

“You’re spot-on with that analysis, John.” Sherlock joked. Could he not make this any harder than it had to be? Could not be so…so Sherlock? No, no, if he had to stop being Sherlock, then this wedding wouldn’t even be happening. He took another deep breath.

“But I digress.”

John paused again.

“I’ve…I’ve always had to hide who I truly was. I was never able to show myself to the world, to my friends or family, I’ve always secluded it from myself, to others. I’ve spent so long in denial about who I was, who I am. I’ve tried to do everything in my power to stop myself being the way that I am, to give myself the allusion that it wasn’t me I was running away from. Everything was perfectly alright with me. T here was times where I found the courage to finally confront myself, and my peers the truth about me, the real John Watson, but I always ended up discouraged and even scared at times.”

Harry was crying she knows what John was trying to say. John was choking up as well.

“I think, it was because I’ve seen how Harry was treated because she was brave enough to show the world who she really was. I didn’t want to be treated like that, I wanted to do my best to fit in, so I’ve kept it locked down inside. But I always hated myself, I hated myself because I wanted to be brave, I wanted to be brave like Harry.”

Sherlock’s eyes were watering up.

“I would always have a girl hanging from my shoulder, I needed to lie to myself, to others, and I needed to give some sort of proof that there was nothing more to me than what you already saw. But there would be times when I would doubt myself, and even though I did like the girl I was with, it was never enough. I was unhappy, and alone. I knew why, but nobody else did, and nobody else would.

I remember the first time I acknowledged it. It was in the army, with someone you don’t know. I was happy, I was euphoric, and I thought I was in love. It was love that I felt for them, but it wasn’t as strong as I wanted it to be.

Things didn’t end on a good note either, because I got invalided home from the military with my wound. I ended being as lonely and hopeless as before, and nothing seemed important to me anymore.”

John smiled brightly, and it was contagious because Sherlock soon had the same grin on his face. He was trying so hard not to cry.

“But then I met you, Sherlock, and you returned all the passion and life to these tired old bones. You took me with you to investigate the murders, you told me my life story in the cab, and we ran all over London in search of a taxi. You are beautiful, Sherlock, and I’ve always thought so, and I just couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and you never seemed to rebuff my emotions, when I let them slide. You asked me to live in the flat with you, and I am glad I did. They say that happiness is unexpected, you can never truly feel it coming, it just springs on you when you least expect it. But I know, that whenever I see you on a case or just being your wonderful self, I feel it, I feel the happiness, Sherlock. You’re my happiness.

But then Moriarty showed up, and all of that mess happened on top of St. Barts, and I had to watch you…”

John paused abruptly and pressed a hand to his mouth as he started to blink back the tears.

“…I was so alone…and I owed you so much. There was so much that I wanted to say to you that couldn’t get the chance to say because I thought that you were…I thought that you were gone from me…

I spent every day after that mourning you and the life that I thought we could’ve had. I thought I saw you sometimes, walking into the flat, playing your violin, typing away on your laptop, but then I blinked, and you weren’t there. I would sit in my chair and stare at the one you should have been occupying, but it was empty. It was then that I knew that I would be back where I started all those years ago, hiding within myself and refusing to come to terms with myself. I was lost and all alone in a world without Sherlock, my Sherlock.

You came back, and you thought it would be funny to surprise me. I was angry, Sherlock, I was so angry at you for leaving me like that, but then I saw your eyes, and your smile, and your scent wafted into my noses again, and I couldn’t bring myself to hate you. All I wanted is for you to come back, and I asked you that. I’m glad that you heard me.”

John gave a short laugh

“I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be making vows to you aren’t I?”

Sherlock nodded while laughing. The audience laughed with them, though theirs were drowned out by the obvious tears invoked by John’s passionate speech.

“Let me try again.”

John took a deep inhale.

“Sherlock Holmes, you have shown me that it is okay to be who you are and not care about what anybody says. You are the one shining light in my life, and let it be known that no matter what happens, I will always be by your side, and I shall never let any harm come to you. Not while I still breathe. I love you, and not long after this, we are to be husbands, and goddamit—“

The minister cleared his throat at John’s word.

“Sorry. Damn it, we’ll be Sherlock Holmes-Watson, and John Watson, and nothing will ever change that.”

The crowd started clapping and Sherlock was still laughing. It made John so overjoyed to see Sherlock like this. He never had enough happiness in his life.

“Mr. Holmes, I believe that it is your turn to speak.”

Sherlock’s laughter died down, but his deep smile remained as he cleared his throat.

“John Watson…what can I say about you? There are so many words to describe a person, but I cannot place one upon you.”

John’s eyes darted back and forth.

“So does that mean that you didn’t write any vows for me?”

“It means that I think so highly of you, that there is not a word invented that can perfectly sum you up, so I guess I’m stuck with using the boring adjectives the English language could come up with.”

John snorted.

“John Watson, you are, brave, kind, loyal…handsome, quite handsome, very handsome, if I might add. You have seen war, and all the horrors that come with it, but yet, you don’t let it overtake your life, you find a way to fight it and I admire you so much for that. You surprise me, actually. Never would I have thought that I would ever find somebody who could tolerate me for as long as you have, let alone want to marry me. You are something special, John.”

John felt his cheeks get hot.

“Growing up, I’ve always been…different, I think is the mild term, no doubt there are many others who would use other, more slightly harsher words than the one I am using right now.”

There are a few grumbles in the audience, and Sherlock tries his best to ignore it.

“In school, I was the one that got picked last for everything, the one nobody wanted to partner with for a project, which I didn’t mind so much. I was the one who ate alone at lunch, and sat away from the other children while I did some menial experiment or another. If it was obvious enough, nobody likes me, and I use present tense because it still applies to this day.”

John’s heart saddened.

“Time and time again, I’ve been told the same things over again. I’ve been told that I would never find someone who loved me, that I would die alone, and that I would never have friends, and after a while, I started to believe them. I’ve always thought that it didn’t bother me, that I could spend my entire life alone in solitude and isolation and not care a fig about it. How wrong I was.”

Sherlock swallowed hard.

“I didn’t notice it then, but I started to use drugs because I couldn’t bear the weight of my loneliness any longer. Everywhere I went, I was reminded of it and then mocked and insulted because of it. I never let the remarks get to me because I knew that I could just forget it all with the sharp pinch of a syringe, and for those few hours where I was high off of the drug, I could imagine a world where somebody would just…”

Sherlock wiped away a tear and the sounds of sniffles only increased at that.

“Somebody would accept me for who I was. I wanted a friend, isn’t that normal people have? Friends and lovers, people that liked being around you that would call you to invite you out for a pint. My own family couldn’t even do that for me.”

Mycroft looked down with a pained expression. He knew he messed up, but he was only trying to prepare Sherlock for the outside world because he knew how cruel it could be, and how soft Sherlock was. The only thing he accomplished was making Sherlock just as harsh as the rest of the world.

“But then I got older and met Lestrade, and he started giving me cases, and it proved a fun way to keep me from the awful despair that is boredom. That didn’t change the fact that I was alone, with nothing but a skull to talk to when I really needed to voice my thoughts.”

Sherlock’s eyes watered up again but he managed to fight the tears.

“…I’ve always thought that I was alone, and that alone protected me, but it didn’t. It made me worse.”

“So what does protect you, Sherlock?”

“You protect me, John. You. It’s always you, John Watson, you keep me right. And I know that I almost never say it, or when I do, it comes out as something completely different, but today is a special day for the both of us, and I think I can let myself say it now without worry of rejection.”

With a deep breath, Sherlock’s eyes bore into John’s soul as he said, “I love you, John Watson. I’m in complete and utter love with you.”

John’s smile quivered at the statement. And Sherlock let one more tear slide down because he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“So my vow to you, John Watson, is that no matter what we go through, we go through it together. It’s just the both of us against the world.”

The crowd made their coos and other noises that showed that their entertainment with their love. But now was the last and final part of the ceremony, the part that makes all of this worthwhile. They were going to put on the rings. Greg pulled them out of his pocket and handed them to the vicar, they didn’t have any children to be the ring bearer.

“Do you John Watson take Sherlock to be your husband – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?”

Almost as if he was talking to Sherlock alone, he whispered, “I will.”

“Do you Sherlock Holmes take John to be your husband – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?”

Sherlock swayed his head back and forth as if he was rethinking it to himself, but then smiled and laughed at John’s face and said, “I will.”

They slid the wedding bands on each other’s finger.

“Wrong finger,” Sherlock corrected. John chuckled nervously and placed on the right finger.

“Sorry about that.”

“I now pronounce you husbands! You may now kiss the groom.”

The church was filled with the screams of joy and excitement as Sherlock and John shared their kiss. This was it, they were husbands now. This is more than any of them could ever hope for. Now they were the Watsons, or in Sherlock’s case, Holmes-Watson, and he couldn’t be any happier. When they pulled away both men turned their heads to the pews on the left-hand side of the chapel. Towards the back they could see the people they wanted to most.

Holmes and Watson were standing next to The Doctor, clapping as if their lives depended on it once they were officially considered married.

When the crowd dispersed to head to the reception, Sherlock and John stood behind to talk to Holmes and Watson.

“Congratulations, may you find eternal peace and love in the arms of each other, I can’t believe it Holmes! I never thought I would live to see the day!”

Holmes was beaming.

“It was quite a sight, wasn’t it?”

“If you think that was something to see, then you should come to the reception, drunk and overly-excited people are the best source of entertainment at social functions such as this.”

Holmes and Watson glanced at each other.

“Are you sure that we aren’t imposing?” Watson asked.

“Not at all!” John exclaimed.

“Come now, we must be off, my brother is going to have a heart-attack if we don’t get there soon. You should come too Doctor, it would be nice to have you there.”

The Doctor waved him off.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.”

Sherlock grabbed his hand.

“Nonsense! Now let’s go, we must be quick!”

And they all ran out of the chapel to get to the reception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more chapter left!


	19. Chapter 19

By the time they arrived at the reception hall, the guests were already beginning to settle in and take their seats. They’ve all had little plates with light snacks scattered about with glasses of champagne. Sherlock wasn’t much of a drinker, but for this occasion, he would drink the champagne, and he will love every sip of it. There was a long table at the front of the room. That’s where Sherlock and John are supposed to sit, along with the bridesmaids, and the best man. They were already seated and Sherlock smiled to himself, they know how to save time. They picked Molly as the maid of honor because she was their closest friend, and she did spend a great deal of time and effort helping with the wedding, and John insisted that they pick her. Sherlock glanced over at her sitting at the table, conversing with Lestrade and looking as giddy as ever in her lilac dress. He couldn’t deny it, the dress did suit her, and she felt comfortable in it. Sherlock turned his head to see John talking with The Doctor, and Holmes and Watson. Most likely, he was telling them where to sit since their attendance wasn’t exactly planned. He pointed to a table in the front that only had one person sitting there, but she moved to join her friends at another table in the back. Sherlock didn’t much care for them so he thought that it would be nice if they got hit with the door every time somebody entered and left. Watching the three move to their designated area, John turned to face Sherlock with the brightest smile on his face.

But he was ambushed by Harry, who wasn’t drunk, but still coming to terms with her brother’s marriage. Sherlock made the decision to join John in his discussion, since he knew that Mycroft felt the same way about the nuptials. Harry had a drink in her hand, it looked like Champagne.

“Harry, what are you doing with that?” John questioned.

“Don’t worry, it’s non-alcoholic, your buddy Mike stopped off at the shops earlier and brought me my own supply so that I wouldn’t…you know…” Her voice trailed off and her eyes wandered down to her glass. John stared at her for a while before giving a huff and then a tired smile. He clapped a hand on her shoulder, and her blue eyes trailed back up to his.

“It’s fine, it’s all fine, Harry. Thank you for coming.”

Harry’s thin lips curved into a small smile and her blonde bangs covered her right eye. She had an asymmetrical bob, and it suited her so well.

“Well I couldn’t miss out on my little brother’s wedding now could I?”

John chuckled and shook his head.

“No, I guess you couldn’t.”

She swished around her drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass.

“I’m sorry that Clara couldn’t be here, she loves soppy stuff like this. She would still be crying right now even though the ceremony’s been over for quite some time.”

Both siblings saddened at Clara’s name. Sherlock has never met her, but from the way Harry described her, she was to her what John is to him. But alcoholism’s effects don’t only harm the alcoholic.

“Yeah, I can see her now. Have you two…talked at all?”

Harry smiled and nodded. She had natural beauty, the kind of beauty that if she put on anything more than simple eyeliner, blush, and lipstick, it would be too much and make her look painted. It was simple beauty, even through the physical effects of alcoholism; the droopy eyes, the wrinkles around the mouth from immense frowning, the crow’s feet from squinting too hard through drunken eyes, she still somehow remained the youthful beauty that she had been years ago.

“We chatted a bit on the phone, talked about her new job and whatnot. She’s stepping up in the business world, I’m proud of her. She asked me out for a cuppa a few days ago, I declined. I didn’t want her to see me like this, I wanted her to see me as the Harry she fell in love with all those years ago. I think I’m ready to see her now, I want to see her, and I miss her.”

“So what do you intend to do about it then?”

“I think that I’ll go home after the wedding and give her a ring. I’ll take her up on that date.”

Sherlock chuckled.

“You think it’s a date?”

She laughed too.

“Of course I do, Sherlock. Clara doesn’t invite just anyone out, she’s a picky woman.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

Sherlock nudged him.

“You should have thought about that before you married me, John Watson.”

John laughed and planted a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek.

“I thought I made the right choice, don’t you, Sherlock Holmes-Watson?”

Sherlock’s cheeks reddened and we walked over to the table to take his seat. John and Harry were laughing at his embarrassment. He could see John point his thumb towards the table and say something else to his sister before turning to join his newly-wedded husband at their respective seats. Sherlock picked his glass of Champagne up and twirled it around between his fingers.

“Do you see Clara and Harry getting back together?”

John shrugged and mumbled, “I’ll give her a month before she relapses again.”

Sherlock knew that John was angry at his sister, but that anger was made out of love for her. He hates seeing her hurt herself like that. Sherlock often wonders if that’s how it was for Mycroft all those years ago when he first found Sherlock drugged out of his mind and on the verge of death. He tried not to think about it. He forced himself to focus on this day, yes, this day of happiness. He heard Lestrade tap his fork on his glass to get the attention of the guests.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the grooms, I would like to thank you for coming today. My name is Greg Lestrade, or as Sherlock likes to call me, anything starting with the letter G.”

The crowd’s laughter was quiet.

“That’s right, Geoff, George, Graham, I even remember one time where Sherlock literally typed in Giraffe on the nametags for the seats.”

The laughter grew louder, and Sherlock’s embarrassment increased. He held on to John’s hand tightly and John smiled fondly and gave his hand a few pats.

“That’s right, Giraffe Lestrade as the best man. You would think that he would know my name after five plus years, right? Nope, he doesn’t.”

The crowd found this exciting and humorous, their laughter carried on a few moments after Greg was done with his joke. When they quieted down, Lestrade took a swig of his ale that he asked for specially.

“But all jokes aside, I couldn’t be happier for these two. I knew, I knew and everyone else they were around knew that something was going on between them. The real question was did they know what they were doing? I mean, I have never seen two men flirt so hard before and never notice it!”

He moved behind Sherlock and John and clapped a hand on both of their shoulders.

“I remember, Sherlock, meeting you all those years ago, and seeing how troubled…how…I don’t even have the word to describe it. I guess the sufficient word would be lost. You were having all of those problems and refused any help that was offered, you were determined to do everything on your own. But I saw the look in your eyes, there was nothing there, not even when you were solving the crime of the century. You were on auto-pilot and doing everything you did simply because you had to. You did so much to feel something, anything was good enough for you, even pain, and I just couldn’t…well I couldn’t stand to see you that way, Sherlock, nobody could.”

Sherlock’s eyes were watering up and he quickly moved to wipe away the tears that were falling. John looked to the crowd to see that majority of them were wiping their faces with handkerchiefs, or were sniffing away the tears, trying their best to keep a straight face, no matter how much they wanted to break down. Holmes and Watson were some of those people.

“….And then…there was that day,” Lestrade was getting choked up.

“That day where you showed up on the crime scene, A Study in Pink, as John titles it, and you were with this stranger. I’ve never seen him before, and I’ve no idea who he was, hell I couldn’t even remember his name.”

John nodded slowly to the last part.

“You told me flat out that he was going to help you investigate, and when I tried to ask you more, you got very defensive, but I let you do what you wanted to, I always do, you know that.”

Sherlock looked up at him with glistening cheeks and gave a shaky smile.

“The next time I saw you with him, you were in that shock blanket, and you hated every minute of it. You tried describing the shooter to me, but then you stopped, and you looked over at that stranger I met earlier, and you two just stared at each other for a long time. Next thing I know you guys are walking away side by side chatting away as if you’ve been together for ages.”

Lestrade’s voice gotten even worse as he talked, and John was the only person at that table trying his damndest not to cry, but he realized he was failing miserably.

“Over time, you were seen everywhere with him, the doctor, your colleague, your flatmate, and I sat back and observed your behavior with him. And I noticed how different your attitude was towards him. You smiled a lot more, you laughed at his jokes, and you did a thousand times better on your cases, and started taking better care of yourself.”

Lestrade took a deep breath and then paused momentarily to wipe at his eyes, which made Sherlock cry even harder, and John shed a few tears. Lestrade gave a short laugh.

“….And then I looked into your eyes one day….and I saw it…I saw the light that shone through your eyes....and that’s when I knew that you and that man….not just any man….John Watson were the real deal. And all I can say to you two now is I’m so proud of you. I’m bloody fucking proud that you two found each other. It’s rare that people find a relationship this genuine but I’m so glad that you were one of the lucky ones. Sherlock, you’ve come such a long way from the man I first met all those ages ago, and I can tell you this.”

He bent down to have Sherlock face him directly in the eyes.

“You aren’t a good man, Sherlock. You’re a great one.”

He pulled Sherlock into the tightest hug and that’s when Sherlock lost it. John could barely hear the loud applause coming from their guests as he rubbed Sherlock’s back. He knows that Sherlock has never had anyone care so deeply for him before, besides himself, and outright admit to the public. Sherlock could barely contain himself, and John didn’t want him to. It was their wedding day, and they could cry as much as they wanted. Lestrade released him and then made his way to John where they shared a friendly hug and a gracious pat on the back. He whispered congratulations to John and Sherlock and then took his seat. Molly stood up and took over his position.

“And now if everybody would help and make space so the grooms can have their first dance, please!”

As the guests shuffled around to push the tables back, Holmes and Watson, along with The Doctor made their way up to the couple, who were recovering from their pulled heartstrings.

“Words can’t describe our joy for you right now,” Watson said.

“It’s a lot more than what Watson and I would have done, but it still splendid, nonetheless.”

The Doctor cut in.

“You should’ve seen them; they were sobbing their eyes out!”

“But if we are correct, you were the one in need of a handkerchief, Doctor.” Watson stated.

The Doctor froze for a moment but then gave a bright smile.

“Oh sod it; I can’t be happy for my friends?”

He wrapped them both in a big hug, nearly squeezing the life out of them. Holmes looked up at the stage, it was empty, and out of all the instruments in the back, he found the one he was looking for. Immediately, he snapped his head towards Sherlock and John.

“Release them at once, Doctor!”

The Doctor let go of them but still had the wide grin plastered across his face.

“What is it, Holmes?” Sherlock asked.

Coolly, Holmes sauntered to the two men and with the most courteous smile he could manage, he asked, “If I may, can I play you a song while you share your dance?”

Sherlock and John glanced at each other, thinking. Then, they turned back with wide smiles on their faces. Holmes and Watson were now smiling too.   
~~~~~~~~~  
Holmes stood at the top of the stage, playing the violin with ease and precision that only one who has spent many years honing the necessary skills could do. Watson and The Doctor watched with the crowd as Sherlock and John waltzed around the floor, dancing with their body’s pressed up against each other’s. Sherlock knew that John couldn’t dance a waltz to save his life, so he spent a few days out of their planning to teach him the steps. With a little persuasion, John was a quick learner.

The lights were dimmed, with only two shining down on the honored couple of the night, basking in the enjoyment of their relationship change. They stared into each other’s eyes luridly and refused to look anywhere else, their hands were clasped together and their fingers intertwined. Never have they looked as full of love and adoration as they did at that moment, and that moment exactly. If The Doctor could, he would frame this point in time forever as a sort of realistic picture that he could revisit whenever he so chose. He may be alone for a while because they don’t think married life goes well with time travel, but at least he was here to witness this.

In the beginning of the dance, Watson was watching Sherlock and John with such intensity that he wondered if they could feel his eyes pressing into their mind. Likely not, they were surrounded in their own impregnable shroud and there was no place they would rather be. He felt his eyes lingering up to the stage where his Holmes was playing the most wonderful romantic melody he has ever heard. He would have to have Holmes replay it again at their flat for sure. As he watched the languid movements of the violin, and the graceful agility in which he moved the bow, he was enraptured. He couldn’t help but think back to earlier that day in the chapel.

_As Sherlock and John were exchanging their vows, Watson felt the warmth of another soul in his hand. He turned to look down when he found none other than Holmes’s hand comfortably nestled inside of his._

_“Holmes?”_

_With his relaxed and calm demeanor, Holmes shushed Watson with a finger to his lips and gave a small smile that shined brighter than the sun._

_“Hush, Watson, let us enjoy this, let us have this much.”_

_“Is this how you want it?” Watson asked tentatively._

_The deep rumbling of his laugh vibrated through the wooden pew and Watson could feel it._

_“My dear Watson, what question is that to ask me? Do you think that I am simply holding your hand because it is cold and I seek warmth? There is nothing I want more than to feel the soft skin of your pale hand heat my own with its passionate warmth. In our world, we can only dream to do this during sleepless nights where I hear you call my name through your woeful mind, and I can do nothing about it. Here, we have this chance, and I intend to use it to the fullest, Watson. Even seeing your worried face, shine with the sun’s vibrant rays, makes me desire you even more, and I can do that. I can touch your face without fear of breaking the law, and I can love it. I can love everything about you Watson, and you may love everything that is me. Tell me you want this; tell me you crave this just as much as I do.”_

_Watson’s cheeks flushed at Holmes’s poetic words. How much of a tease this was. They could do what their heart’s desire here, but in their world, in their home, they couldn’t even do as much as hug each other without the paranoia of being shunned and imprisoned. Watson had half a mind to tell Holmes to tell The Doctor that they were staying, and that they weren’t going back home. But he knew it was impossible, love is impossible. This stimulated him even more, the feeling of doing all of this in secret, of not spilling a word out to another soul, why this must be how people who take part in affairs must feel._

_To look at Holmes’s face and see the agony, the joy, the happiness of their relationship written all over his face made Watson sad, but aroused him more._

_“I do crave this, Holmes. You know that I do.”_

_Holmes’s smile widened and Watson’s chest nearly caved in._

_“So let us pretend, Watson. Let us picture ourselves at the altar, and let us be Sherlock and John. Let’s marry each other.”_

_Watson’s eyes bulged._

_“Holmes…”_

_“Let us indulge in our wild fantasies, the things that men don’t dare to think at home. Just this once, Watson, let’s live as we want to, without a care in the world. Let’s live and love as Sherlock and John do.”_

_Watson knew that this goes against everything he was taught to believe in, but Holmes, the brilliant madman that he was, always had a way of swaying his mind. How deep can love be?_

_“Yes Holmes, let’s marry each other, while it may not be official or real, we can always think this in our heads. That we are Sherlock and John, and that we are the ones getting married.”_

_The vicar was now asking Sherlock and John if they would take each others’ hand in marriage. Watson saw Sherlock’s mouth open once it came his turn to speak, but the voice he heard said, “I will.”_

_Watson closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at Holmes._

_When John’s turn came to answer, his mouth opened, but Watson’s voice was the one that was heard whispering, “I will.”_

_And just as Sherlock and John moved in to kiss, Watson felt the smooth lips of Holmes on his own. Curse the impossible rules set by their society. Curse the nineteenth-century for not letting them enjoy this to the fullest!_

_Holmes pulled away, much to Watson’s dismay. The suave smile played on his lips._

_“My dear Watson, my treasured companion; answer this question for me.”_

_“What is it, Holmes?”_

_“Are you happy…?”_

Watson never did answer that question at the chapel. He couldn’t find his answer, just as he couldn’t find it back in their flat when they received the marital status of their counterparts. But now, as he watches Sherlock and John waltz about, laughing and smiling without a care in the world, he felt that sense of immense pride and joy wash over him all over again. He couldn’t be happier that they were at given the chance, and took it. He wished them immortality, even though he knew it was impossible, but he wanted to see them happy forever, to know that they were happy. Their happiness is his. His eyes were focused on Holmes again, and Holmes must have felt the eyes on him because he let one open to peek back at Watson. And it was then in that moment, Watson knew his answer. With his lips parting into a smile, he mouthed the word, “Yes.”

Holmes has never grinned so widely before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please, if you can, give me some ideas for the next part in the series! 
> 
> Thanks again!


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